

COFXRIGHT DEPOSm 







Frontispiece. 


The Girls Worked Busily. 




Grace Harlowe’s 
Return to Overton 
Campus 


By 

JESSIE GRAHAM FLOWER, A.M. 

.1 ’ 

Author of The High School Girls Series, The College Girls 
Series, etc. 


PHILADELPHIA 

HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY 


Copyright, 1915, by- Howard E. Altemus. 


SEP -71915 

^ 0 , i/tJ 


©CI.A41136S 

^ I 


CONTENTS 


Chapter Page 

I. A Midsummer Pilgrimage 7 

II. A Welcome Guest 14 

III. An Unexpected Caller 29 

IV. The Secret Session. 37 

V. The Way to Perpetual Youth 47 

VI. Jessica’s Wedding 59 

VII. The Eeturn of Emma Dean 72 

VIII. A Strange Applicant 84 

IX. Mary Eeynolds Makes a New Friend 98 

X. The Thirty-third Girl 116 

XI. Evelyn Ward, Freshman 130 

XII. The Harlowe House Club 138 

XIII. Planning for the Eeception 146 

XIV. A Disquieting Thought 153 

XV. A Semper Fidelis Eeunion 159 

XVI. The Interrupted Confidence 173 

XVII. A Week-end in New York 183 

XVIII. A Humiliating Eeprimand'. 193 

XIX. An Unintentional Listener 202 

XX. A Double Puzzle 210 

XXI. The Puzzle Deepens 216 

XXII. Two Letters 223 

XXIII. Kathleen West, Confidante 240 

XXIV. Conclusion 247 



Grace Harlowe’s Return to 
Overton Campus 


CHAPTER I 

A MIDSUMMER PILGRIMAGE 

at last!’’ exclaimed Grace 
i f Harlowe, as, regardless of possible 
cinders and stern railroad injunctions, 
she leaned far out of the car window to obtain 
a first eager glimpse of her destination. 

It was midsummer, and the quiet, little town 
of Overton drowsed gently, not to awaken until 
the sounds of girl laughter and the passing of 
light feet through its sleepy streets roused it 
to the realization that it was Overton College 
that made its hum-drum existence worth while. 

‘‘Oh, Mrs. Gray, you can’t imagine how 
happy I feel!” went on Grace, her eyes elo- 
quent vuth emotion. “Next to home, I love 
Overton better than any other place on earth. 
I’m so glad we are going to stay at Wayne Hall, 
and that Mrs. Elwood is to meet us.” 

A long shrill whistle, a creaking and groan- 

7 


8 


GEACE HAELOWE^S EETUEN 


ing of protesting iron wheels, the stentorian 
cry of ‘‘Overton! Overton!^’ and then a sudden 
jarring stop. Grace reached to the rack over- 
head for Mrs. Gray’s small leather bag, allow- 
ing the dainty little old lady to precede her 
down the aisle which was practically clear. 
Apparently they were the only Overton pas- 
sengers in that car. She stood still on the top 
step of the train until Mrs. Gray had been 
safely landed on the platform by the smiling 
porter, then, disdaining his helping hand, ran 
down the steps with a joyful skip that caused 
her companion to say indulgently, “You’ll 
never grow up, Grace, and I’m glad of it. I 
can’t become reconciled to the fact that Nora 
and Jessica are brides-to-be and that Anne’s 
art is making her terribly serious. It’s a joy 
to my old age to see you frisk about as happily 
as you did when you were a little thing in short 
white skirts with two long braids of fair hair 
hanging down your back. 

“I don’t really feel a bit older than I did 
then,” confessed Grace. “Sometimes I’m al- 
most ashamed of my enthusiasm. It seems as 
though nice things are always happening to 
me, and this summer pilgrimage of just we two 
is the nicest of all.” 

They were walking slowly across the de- 
serted platform now, and Grace was keeping 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


9 


a sharp look-out on all sides for the short, com- 
fortable figure of Mrs. Elwood. 

i i There she is ! ’ ’ Grace hurried forward, her 
hands outstretched. The next instant they were 
held in Mrs. Elwood ^s welcoming grasp, while 
she kissed Grace’s soft cheek. 

^‘My dear, dear girl!” she exclaimed, a sus- 
picious moisture in her kindly blue eyes. ‘^It 
does seem good to see you again. I ’m very glad 
to welcome you to Overton, Mrs. Gray,” she 
turned to shake hands with the donor of Har- 
lowe House, ‘^and delighted to know that you 
are going to stay with me instead of going to 
the Tourraine. Miss Harlowe’s old room is 
ready for her, and I’m going to put you in the 
room Miss Nesbit and Miss Briggs used to 
have. ’ ’ 

‘^You’ll be haunted by the kimono-clad 
shades of Miriam and Elfreda drinking tea and 
eating cakes at unseemly hours of the night,” 
laughed Grace. 

^ ‘ How are all my girls 1 ’ ’ asked Mrs. Elwood. 
don’t know what I shall do without them 
this year. You will have to come and see me 
often and tell me all about them, Miss Harlowe. 
Now let me see. There ought to be a taxicab 
just the other side of the station. Yes, there 
it is.” 

The driver touched his cap smilingly to 


10 GRACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


Grace as they climbed into the automobile. ‘‘It 
does look good to see yon here again, miss,’^ 
he said respectfully. 

“Thank you. I^m glad to see you again. 
Grace beamed whole-heartedly upon him. How 
many times he had carried her to and from the 
station. It was he who had driven the car on 
that memorable day when Ruth Denton had 
gone to the station to meet her father. Grace’s 
eyes grew dreamy as they passed through the 
familiar streets. How much had happened 
since the time when she had entered Oakdale 
High School as a freshman with college in the 
far and hidden future. 

To her many friends “Gkace Harlowe’s 
Plebe Year at High School,” “Grace Har- 
lowe’s Sophomore Year at High School,” 
“Grace Harlowe’s Junior Year at High 
School,” and “Grace Harlowe’s Senior Year 
AT High School” are now familiar records. 
Equally well known to these friends is the 
story of her freshman year at Overton, as set 
forth in “Graqe Harlowe’s First Year at 
Overton College.” 

Accompanied by her friends, Miriam Nesbit 
and Anne Pierson, Grace began her freshman 
year at Overton College under a cloud which 
rose from her ready defense of J. Elfreda 
Briggs, a disgruntled student who had made 


TO OVEKTON CAMPUS 


11 


enemies of two sophomores, and whose first 
days at college were made very unpleasant by 
them. J. Elfreda’s subsequent casting aside 
of her friendship and her tardy realization of 
Grace’s worth brought about a happy ending 
of their freshman year. 

In ‘ ‘ Grace Harlowe ’s Second Year at Over- 
ton College” the four girls set out to find the 
rainbow side of their sophomore year. How 
each girl found it, but in an entirely different 
manner, how Grace lived up to her resolve to 
choose only the highest in college, and how the 
famous Semper Fidelis Club came into ex- 
istence, made the sophomore year in college 
memorable. 

‘‘Grace Harlowe ’s Third Year at Overton 
College” told of what befell the four friends 
as juniors. The advent of Kathleen West, 
a newspaper girl, into college was the first 
link in a chain of petty difficulties with which 
Grace was obliged to contend as a junior. 
The carnival given by the Semper Fidelis Club 
in which the Alice in Wonderland Circus was 
enacted, the important part which J ean, the old 
hunter of Oakdale fame, played in one Over- 
ton girl’s life, the message Emma Dean forgot 
to deliver, and countless other absorbing inci- 
dents served to fill their junior year with cease- 
less interest. 


12 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


‘^Gkace Haklowe’s Fourth Year at Overtok 
College” found Grace and her friends on the 
homeward stretch with commencement at the 
end of their college trail. The record of 
Grace’s senior year was filled with happen- 
ings grave and gay. It ended in a blaze of 
honor and glory, and it was on Commencement 
day that she made her decision to return to 
Overton and look after Harlowe House, lately 
completed and endowed by Mrs. Gray in honor 
of her young friends and dedicated to the use 
of poor girls who were making valiant efforts to 
obtain an education. 

It was in reference to Harlowe House, her 
future home, that Grace and Mrs. Gray had 
made this midsummer pilgrimage, as Grace 
had laughingly styled it, to Overton. As their 
car glided through the shady streets of the dig- 
nified college town Grace wondered if it were 
really eight years since her freshman days in 
Oakdale High School. It certainly couldn’t be 
four years since Mabel Ashe had conducted her 
and Anne and Miriam to the Tourraine on that 
first eventful afternoon. She remembered just 
how beautiful Mabel had looked in her white 
linen frock, with her white embroidered para- 
sol tilted over one shoulder, an effective frame 
for her lovely face and wavy, golden-brown 
hair. 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


13 


Dreaming, Grace?’’ Mrs. Gray’s voice dis- 
pelled the vision. ‘‘I can’t blame you. I 
suppose this ride brings up hosts of mem- 
ories.” 

Grace nodded. She could not trust her voice 
to answer. A sudden mist filled her eyes, a 
silent tribute to those whose feet had once kept 
pace with hers through these beloved ways. 
Commencement had scattered them broadcast. 
She, alone, was coming back again to take up 
life at the college. How she would miss them 
all. The dry irresistible humor of Emma 
Dean, the sturdy independence of J. Elfreda 
Briggs, the daintiness of Arline Thayer and 
the steadfast loyalty of Ruth Denton. Last of 
all there were Anne and Miriam. Anne, her de- 
voted little comrade of years, and Miriam, 
whose faith and good fellowship had never 
failed her. 

A sob rose in Grace’s throat, but she quickly 
stifled it. After all she was about to begin the 
work she herself had chosen. She had known 
when she announced her determination to take 
charge of Harlowe House that things could 
never be quite the same. It would be selfish, 
indeed, in her to break down and cry when Mrs. 
Gray had come to Overton solely to help her 
select the furniture and plan for the opening 
of Harlowe House in September. 


14 GEACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


Grace pulled herself together and, resolutely 
putting her own sense of loss behind her, said 
steadily: ‘‘I couldnT help thinking of the girls 
for a minute. It made me want to cry, but Vve 
set my face to the future now, and I^m sure 
that my new work is going to bring me as much 
happiness here as I had during the other dear 
four years. When I think of how splendid it 
was in you to give Harlowe House to Overton, 
I feel as though there isnT any sacrifice too 
great for me to make to insure its success, and 
I hope that my coming back to Overton Campus 
to do my work is going to mean a thousand 
times more to me next June than it does 
now.” 


CHAPTER II 

A WELCOME GUEST 

T he summer sun, streaming intimately in 
at the window of her room, and touch- 
ing her hair with warm, aw^akening fin- 
gers, caused Grace to open her eyes before six 
o^clock the next -morning. She lay looking 
about her, unable for the moment to remember 
where she was. Then she laughed and reach- 
ing for her kimono, which hung folded across 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


15 


the footboard of the bed, slipped it on, and, 
thrusting her feet into her bedroom slippers, 
went to the window. 

‘‘Dear old Overton Hall,’’ she murmured, 
her eyes fixed lovingly on the stately gray 
tower of the building that she had come to re- 
gard as a close friend. Again she found her- 
self overwhelmed by a tide of reminiscences. 
How many times she and Anne had stood at the 
self-same window, arm in arm, gazing out at 
the self-same sights. She could see the very 
seat at the foot of the big tree where she had sat 
the day Emma Dean had poked her head about 
the big syringa bush and mournfully handed 
her the letter from Euth Denton’s father which 
had been buried in the pocket of Emma’s coat 
for so many weeks. She smiled as she recalled 
the ludicrously penitent expression with which 
Emma had delivered the letter. There were 
the library steps on which Arline Thayer had 
sat and cried so disconsolately because she 
could not go home for Christmas. Once more 
she saw a strange procession winding its way 
across the campus headed by a walking, chat- 
tering scarecrow, Emma Dean again in her fa- 
mous representation of “Never Too Late to 
Mend,” which had been one of the great fea- 
tures of the Famous Fiction dance. 

Then she saw four girls, with their shining 


16 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


heads bared to the sun, strolling across the 
campus, talking earnestly of what the future 
held for them. And still again she saw them in 
caps and gowns marching toward the Gate of 
Commencement. It was only a little time since 
they had passed through that gateway, yet how 
long it seemed. 

Suddenly her look of abstraction changed to 
one of startled interest. Running to the door 
she threw it open and listened intently. She 
heard Mrs. Elwood’s voice raised in pleased 
surprise, then, could she believe her earsf she 
heard another never-to-be-forgotten voice say, 
‘‘I could see that there was some one awake and 
stirring. ’ ’ 

With a joyous cry of “ J. Elfreda, where, oh, 
where did you come fromU’ a lithe, blue-robed 
figure raced down the stairs and wrapped both 
arms tightly about a plump young woman, 
in a tailored coat suit, who returned the warm 
embrace mth interest. 

‘‘Oh, Grace, I can’t tell you how glad I am 
to see you again ! ’ ’ exclaimed J. Elfreda Briggs 
fervently. “I never was so glad in all my 
life as when I found out you were here. 
The letter was forwarded to me at the beach. 
We’re at Wildwood for the summer. Maybe I 
didn’t pick up my things in a hurry. To use 
slang, which you know I can’t resist using oc- 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


17 


casionally, I hot-footed it for the station the 
minute Ma said I could come. ’ ’ 

‘ AVhich letter do you mean, Elfreda^^ asked 
Grace in a puzzled tone. 

^‘VHiy the one from Mrs. Gray, of course,’^ 
returned Elfreda. “IsnT she here?’’ 

^‘Yes, but ” . 

Grace! Elfreda!” called Mrs. Gray from 
the head of the stairs, ‘^come up here, chil- 
dren. ’ ’ 

‘‘Come on.” Grace seized Elfreda ’s heavy 
suit case and started up the stairs. Elfreda 
followed with alacrity. 

“Now,” laughed Grace, as she stepped into 
Mrs. Gray’s room, “I demand an explanation.” 
She laid her hands lightly upon the old lady’s 
shoulders, smiling down at her, then bent and 
kissed her cheek. 

“This is certainly a happy meeting,” de- 
clared Elfreda, as she embraced Mrs. Gray, 
who rose to greet her. 

“I’m so glad you could come, my dear. I 
knew that Grace would miss her friends dread- 
fully when she came back here. Anne and 
Miriam are both away, and Nora and Jessica 
are too deep in the mysteries of hope chests 
and wedding finery to be dragged off on even 
the most delightful of midsummer pilgrimages. 
But my greatest reason for asking you to come 

2 — Grace Harlowe’s Return to Overton Campus. 


18 GRACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


was because I believed you were the very per- 
son Grace needed to make her happy here. 
You see it will take at least two weeks to set 
things to rights and she must have inspiring 
company. I hope everything has arrived 
safely. Suppose we hurry through with our 
breakfast and go over to Harlowe House at 
once. Mrs. Elwood tells me that she informed 
the caretaker yesterday of our coming. We 
shall be obliged to stop at his house for the key. ’ ’ 

‘‘Oh, Elfreda, I’m so sorry that you weren’t 
with us in New York,” was Grace’s regretful 
cry. “We stayed with the Southards, Mrs. 
Gray, Anne, Miriam and I. Anne, Miss South- 
ard and Mr. Southard left New York City for 
California last week. Mr. Southard and Anne 
are to appear as joint stars in film productions 
of ‘As You Like It,’ ‘Hamlet,’ ‘King Lear’ and 
possibly other Shakespearian plays. It is their 
first experience in posing before the camera. 
Anne sent you her love. She vdll write you as 
soon as she is settled.” 

“Dear little Anne,” smiled Elfreda, her eyes 
growing tender. 

“I hope she’ll be back in time for the girls’ 
weddings. Nora and Jessica say positively 
that they won’t be married without her.” 
Grace looked anxious. 

“Wlien are they to be married?” 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


19 


‘‘The last of September. The date hasn’t 
been set.” 

“Grace,” Elfreda fixed round solemn eyes on 
her friend, “do you feel very old this sum- 
mer ? ’ ’ 

“Not the least little bit. I can’t realize that 
I’ve come back to Harlowe House to take 
charge of it. I feel as young as I felt when I 
first entered high school.” 

“Well, I’m glad to hear it, for, to save me, 
I can’t feel responsible and dignified. I’ve run 
and raced and swum and played golf like an 
Indian all summer, and honestly I feel ever so 
much younger than when I came to Overton 
four years ago. See how tanned I am*? I 
haven’t gained an ounce either. I weigh just 
one hundred and thirty-five pounds and no 
more,” concluded J. Elfreda in triumph. 

“You are in splendid condition, Elfreda,” 
praised Mrs. Gray. Grace nodded emphatic 
approval. 

“Yes, I’m strong enough to hustle furniture, 
beat rugs, scrub floors, or do anything else 
necessary to the beautif^dng and eternal im- 
provement of Harlowe House.” Then she 
added slyly, “Lead me to it.” 

“You’ll be led to it fast enough,” promised 
Grace. “Just wait until we have some break- 
fast. 


20 GRACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


At that moment Mrs. Elwood appeared in 
the open doorway. ‘'Shall I bring your break- 
fast upstairs this morning?’^ she asked. “I 
thought Mrs. Gray might like to have it in her 
room. ’ ’ 

“Thank you, but I’d rather go downstairs 
this morning,” nodded the energetic old lady. 
“May we breakfast a la negligee?” 

“Yes, come dovui just as you are. There is 
no one here besides myself and the maid.” 

‘ ‘ Miss Briggs have you had your breakfast ? 
J ane is making waffles. I thought you ” 

“Waffles!” exclaimed Elfreda, rolling her 
eyes in ecstacy. “If I’d had fifty breakfasts I 
couldn’t resist waffles. Thank goodness Vin- 
ton’s wasn’t open.” 

“Aren’t waffles supposed to be fattening?” 
inquired Grace judiciously. 

“Don’t ask me,” was Elfreda ’s fervent pro- 
test. “I’ve set my mind on eating them, even 
though I have to walk to Hunter’s Rock and 
back in the glare of the noonday sun to coun- 
teract their deadly effects.” 

It was a merry trio that gathered around the 
table which Mrs. Elwood had set on the roomy, 
\ine-covered back porch, and it was fully an 
hour after they sat down to breakfast before 
they rose to go upstairs and make r^ady for 
their visit to Harlowe House. 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


21 


‘‘There is no use in trying to begin our real 
Avork to-day/’ declared Grace, as the three left 
Mrs. Elwood’s and strolled slowly along Col- 
lege Street in the direction of the caretaker’s 
house. Mr. Symes, who had faithfully exe- 
cuted so many commissions for Grace, had been 
selected as the best possible person to look 
after the house. “Mr. Symes was to see that 
everything was unpacked before we arrived. 
We shall have to employ two men to move the 
heavy furniture. Thank goodness and Mrs. 
Gray, there are no carpets to be laid. The 
floors are all hard wood and there are rugs for 
every room except the kitchen and laundry. ’ ’ 

“I brought an old dress along,” Elfreda in- 
formed her friends. “I helped Ma set our cot- 
tage to rights this summer and I know some- 
thing about work. We had two maids and a 
scrubwoman. The maids were in my way, so 
I sent them off for a holiday and the scrub- 
woman and I tackled the job and went 
through with it like wildfire. Ma nearly had a 
spasm, but she liked the looks of things when 
we had finished. You should have seen me, 
though. Ma didn’t like my looks. I guess I did 
resemble a human mop if you know what that 
looks like.” 

“I can imagine,” laughed Grace. “If you 
attack the business of putting Harlowe House 


22 GKACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


to rights with the same energy, I shall know 
exactly how yon looked when yon cleaned the 
cottage.” 

“Perhaps yon will,” Elfreda grinned boy- 
ishly. “I hadnT thonght of that.” 

“Yon conldnT see that far ahead, conld 
yon I” qnizzed Grace with twinkling eyes. 

“No I conldn’t,” declared Elfreda earnestly, 
then, catching sight of Grace’s dancing eyes, 
she langhed good-natnredly. “Yon will tease 
me about that. I can see that yon ’ll never ont- 
grow the habit.” 

“I can see that Elfreda is going to lighten 
onr labors and make onr tasks merry,” smiled 
Mrs. Gray. “What a joy and a diversion yon 
mnst have been to Miriam.” 

“I was anything bnt an nnqnalified sonrce of 
pleasnre dnring my freshman year,” replied 
Elfreda. “It is plain to be seen that Grace 
never told yon my early Overton history.” 

“Now, Elfreda ” began Grace, bnt El- 

freda was not to be thns easily deterred from 
saying her say. She launched forth with a 
Indicrons account of her freshman shortcom- 
ings that left Mrs. Gray and Grace breathless 
with laughter. 

“Elfreda, it is hard to say which is fnnnier, 
yon or Hippy,” Mrs. Gray’s eyes twinkled with 
enjoyment. 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


23 


‘‘Well, isn’t it so!” demanded J. Elfreda. 
‘ ‘ Isn ’t that exactly the way I nsed to do ? ” 

“It’s Avhat I call a highly exaggerated ac- 
count of your self-named misdeeds,” returned 
Grace. “You haven’t said a word about all 
the nice things you did for the girls.” 

“I don’t remember them,” evaded Elfreda 
hastily. “Oh, there’s Mr. Symes now! How 
are you, Mr. Symes? You didn’t expect to see 
me here, did you?” 

“Well, well, if it ain’t Miss Briggs,” beamed 
the old man joyfully. His remembrance of J. 
Elfreda was decidedly pleasant. She had al- 
ways paid him generously for the numerous 
errands he had run for her. He greeted Grace 
with equal enthusiasm, and bobbed like a nod- 
ding mandarin before Mrs. Gray. 

“I hope you have been well, Mr. Symes. 
How is your wife and how do you like be- 
ing caretaker of Harlowe House?” asked 
Grace. 

“I’m well, miss, and so’s my wife. It’s a 
fine place, miss, that Harlowe House, an’ it’ll 
be finer still when fall comes and it’s full of 
Overton students. We’re pretty proud of our 
young ladies, we Overton folks. Excuse me, 
miss, I’ll go over to my house and get the key. 
I’ll be right along. 

“He has a whole lot of real college spirit,” 


24 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


commented Elfreda, ‘‘or he couldn’t speak so 
beautifully of the Overton girls.” 

“He always was a perfect old dear,” agreed 
Grace warmly. 

The caretaker soon overtook them with the 
key, and the little company crossed the street 
and traversed the deserted campus. 

“How strangely still everything is,” com- 
mented Grace. “Not in the least like it was six 
months ago, is it, Elfreda?” 

“It gives me the blues,” averred Elfreda in 
a low tone. 

“Here we are,” called Mrs. Gray, with a 
cheery attempt at dispelling the tiny cloud of 
dejection that had fallen over the two girls. 
“Harlowe House couldn’t have a prettier 
site.” 

The three women followed Mr. Symes up the 
steps, then, as if by common consent, turned 
and looked out over the green expanse of 
closely-clipped lawn, sprinkled with sentinel- 
like old trees. They had stood guard year after 
year and silently watched the comings and go- 
ings of the hundreds of girls who proudly ac- 
knowledged Overton as their Alma Mater. 

“Wliat’s the use of gazing and mooning?” 
asked Elfreda, with sudden brusqueness. 
“Please open that door, Mr. Symes. I shall 
certainly weep and wail disconsolately out of 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


25 


pure sentiment if yon don’t distract my atten- 
tion wdth something else. Show me the fur- 
niture, or the boxes it came in, or anything 
else that won’t call forth tender reminis- 
cences.” 

Grace’s laugh sounded a trifle shaky, but it 
was a laugh nevertheless. Something in El- 
freda’s brusque tones acted as an antidote to 
her retrospection. She had been more or less 
ghost-ridden ever since her return to Overton. 
She now resolved to shake off that pleasantly- 
melancholy sensation and ^^be up and doing 
with a heart for any fate.” 

The caretaker admitted them to a hall 
crowded with huge packing boxes. In fact, the 
whole of the first floor was occupied by the 
large shipments of furniture recently delivered 
into the care of Mr. Symes. 

‘‘It’s worse than the cottage,” announced 
Elfreda; “a regular howling wilderness. I’d 
like to know how we can possibly guess what’s 
what and why. These boxes all look alike. If 
we have our minds set upon seeing the parlor 
suite, we’ll be sure to xmpack the kitchen fur- 
niture instead.” 

“We’ll let the men wrestle with the unpack- 
ing, girls,” decided Mrs. Gray. “I don’t wish 
my body guard to nurse wholesale bruises and 
smashed fingers. Mr. Symes, can you have two 


26 GKACE HAELOWE’S EETUEN 


men besides yourself here this afternoon to 
unpack these things 

‘‘I certainly can, Mrs. Gray,’’ promised Mr. 
Symes with respectful promptness. 

^ ‘ Then we ’ll have to possess our souls in pa- 
tience until to-morrow,” sighed Grace. ‘‘Isn’t 
this a lovely, roomy house, Elfreda? I’m so 
glad, too, that there isn’t a prim, stiff parlor. 
I like this immense living-room much better. 
The girls will surely like it. It will serve as a 
library too. That little room just otf the hall 
will make such a convenient office for me. 
Imagine me as the head of a college house, with 
an office all my own, Elfreda.” 

“It’s a good thing for the house,” com- 
mented Elfreda. “I hope the girls that live 
here will appreciate you, Grace. I hope none of 
them will be as silly as J. Elfreda Briggs was. ’ ’ 

“Elfreda, how can you?” remonstrated 
Grace. 

“How could I, you mean,” flung back El- 
freda. “Because I was a spoiled, selfish ingrate 
who never stopped to think of any one else’s 
rights.” 

“Now, now, Elfreda,” protested Mrs. Gray. 

“Well, I was,” insisted Elfreda positively. 
“It took a whole year to reduce me to order. I 
wasn’t as hopeless as some of the others. It 
took three years to make Alberta Wicks and 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


27 


Mary Hampton real Overton girls, and two 
years to instil college spirit into Kathleen 
West. But Grace never gave any of us up, 
even though we treated her so shabbily. That’s 
wh}^ I just said I hoped that the girls would 
appreciate Grace. I’d hate to think that some 
stupid ill-natured freshman, it’s more likely to 
be a freshman than any one else, would behave 
like an idiot and spoil her first year at Harlowe 
House.” There was an expression of anxious 
concern on Elfreda’s round face. 

‘‘Don’t worry, Elfreda,” reassured Grace, 
“the students who come to Harlowe House to 
live are sure to be nice. Girls who have their 
ovm way to pay through college are usually 
cheerful and unselfish. They are anxious to 
live and willing to let live.” 

“I don’t know about that. Kathleen West 
wasn’t a glaring pattern of amiability when she 
entered Overton,” reminded Elfreda. “Of 
course she’s now a brilliant example of what 
forbearance will accomplish, and you know that 
I am very fond of her, but you and I remember 
what we went through during the forbearing 
process.” 

“Don’t croak, J. Elfreda Briggs,” admon- 
ished Grace lightly, “I don’t imagine that 
everything will be plain sailing this year. That 
would be asking too much. Still I hope I shall 


28 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


not have any serions misunderstandings with 
my girls. I’m going to remember my motto, 
‘Blessed are they that have found their work,’ 
and not shirk anything that comes within the 
line of it.” 

“I guess there isn’t the slightest danger of 
shirking on your part,” was Elfreda’s dry re- 
tort. “I hope the men that do the unpacking 
of this stuff will be imbued with the same 
spirit. You’d better bring out that motto and 
hang it up where they can see it. To change 
the subject, we haven’t been upstairs yet.” 

“Come on, then.” 

“I think I’ll wait for you on the veranda, 
children,” said Mrs. Gray. “Don’t stay up- 
stairs too long. I should like to go back to 
Mrs. Elwood’s, telephone for a taxicab, and 
make a call upon Dr. Morton this morning. ’ ’ 

“We’ll hurry,” promised Grace, as they 
ascended the open staircase which led to the 
second floor. “These are to be my quar- 
ters,” she announced, opening a door at the 
end of the hall on the left side of the 
stairs. “This left wing was designed espe- 
cially for me. The right wing has the same 
amount of space, but it is divided into two 
bedrooms. But the left has a sitting-room 
and bedroom, with a bathroom between the two. 
It seems selfish in me to have so much room, 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


29 


but Mrs. Gray insists that I need it and wishes 
me to be thoroughly comfortable. She wanted 
me to have Circassian walnut bedroom furni- 
ture, but I chose oak. I donT wish my rooms 
to suggest luxury. It wouldnT seem in touch 
with the spirit of my undertaking.’’ 

Elfreda regarded Grace with loving admira- 
tion. “You’re the squarest, fairest girl I ever 
knew or even expect to know, Grace,” was her 
tribute. “And you deserve the best that the 
Harlowe House girls can give you.” 


CHAPTER III 

AN UNEXPECTED CALLER 

‘“4 ND if I do say it as shouldn’t,’ this room 
r\ is a credit to our college and our own 
sweet native land,” proclaimed El- 
freda, as she viewed with critical eyes the long 
cheerful living-room, to which she and Grace 
had just put the final touches. The morning 
sunshine of a perfect midsummer day poured 
in at the windows flooding the scene with 
dazzling light, as though smiling its approval 
of the pretty room. The walls and ceilings 
were papered in cream color with a running 
border of green leaves. The floor rug was in 


30 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


two shades of green, and the window draperies 
were in green and white. The furniture was 
in mission oak, but there were several comfort- 
able arm chairs and willow rockers scattered 
about the room. A long library table took up 
considerable space at one end of the room, and 
conveniently near it were rows of book shelves, 
lined with special books required by the Over- 
ton curriculum of study, which, in price, were 
out of reach of the more impecunious students, 
and were in such constant demand at the 
library that their temporary possession often 
meant weeks of waiting. 

There was a piano, of course, but the crown- 
ing feature of the room, however, was the wide 
window seat built across the bow-window at 
its upper end. It was at least four feet wide, 
upholstered in thick green velvet and piled high 
with sofa pillows. It was indeed a cozy corner 
which invited rest, and Elfreda confidently 
predicted that it would be the most popular 
spot in the house. 

The house itself had not followed the usual 
plan of modern architecture. In fact, it was 
distinctly old-fashioned and built for room 
rather than e:ffect. The hall ran the length of 
the house to the kitchen, dividing it into two 
parts. The dining-room was on the side oppo- 
site the living-room, and had also a bow-win- 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


31 


dow. Directly behind it lay the servants ^ quar- 
ters. Adjoining the living-room was Grace’s 
little office and behind that was a room 
furnished with every convenience for the 
benefit of those girls who were obliged to 
launder their own clothing to save expense. 

The second, third and fourth floors were, 
with the exception of Grace’s suite, given up 
entirely to bedrooms, of which there were six- 
teen. This meant the accommodation of thirty- 
two students for whom the perplexing problem 
of food and shelter was solved for their entire 
four years’ course at Overton, provided they 
complied with the rules of Harlowe House. 

^‘Doesn’t it seem wonderful, Elfreda, that 
through Mrs. Gray’s generosity the girls who 
come here will be free from the dreadful worry 
of paying board? All they will have to look out 
for is their regular college fees, and if they 
happen to be lucky enough to enter Overton on 
scholarships they will have absolutely plain 
sailing.” Grace’s face was alight with appre- 
ciation of Mrs. Gray’s gift. 

What a pity Euth Denton couldn’t have had 
such a chance,” mused Elfreda. ‘‘Poor little 
Euth, how hard she worked. ’ ’ 

“And now she has everything,” returned 
Grace. “It seems miraculous that she found 
her father, doesn’t it?” 


32 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


Elfreda nodded. “Arline Thayer was good 
to her those first three years. Do you remem- 
ber the ridiculous quarrel they had because 
Ruth wouldn’t tell us what she was like when 
she was a little girl ? ’ ’ 

‘‘I ought to remember it, considering the fact 
that I officiated as peace maker,” smiled Grace. 
‘^How I shall miss Arline. There is only one 
other girl, outside of you and Miriam and 
Anne, whom I shall miss as much.” 

‘‘Emma Dean?” guessed Elfreda. 

“Yes, Emma Dean. I can’t begin to tell you 
how fond of her I am and always have been. 
She was the life of Wayne Hall. Mrs. Elwood 
was sighing fond remembrance of her only this 
morning. Really, Elfreda, I wonder if, ever 
again, there will be a class quite like 19 ?” 

“Never,” declared Elfreda with quick loy- 
alty, then, glancing up at the mission clock on 
the wall, she exclaimed: “I wonder why Mrs. 
Gray doesn’t come! Let’s go out on the ve- 
randa and watch for her.” 

The two young women strolled out onto the 
veranda just in time to see an automobile drive 
up to the house containing two persons. One 
of them was Mrs. Gray, the other, to whom she 
was talking animatedly, was a broad-shoul- 
dered young man, whose gray eyes shone with 
pleasure as he caught sight of Grace. 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


33 


“Why, Tom!” she called in astonishment. 
“WTiere did yon come from? I thought yon 
were away np in Maine.” She hurried down 
the steps, her hands extended. 

The young man caught them in his and held 
them fast. “Sol was, ’ ^ he answered, his eyes 
searching hers, “but my work there is done for 
the present. I am on my way to Washington, 
but its a roundabout way, for, when I received 
your letter, I was devoured with curiosity to 
see Harlowe House, so I took a day off, on my 
own responsibility, and came this way. ’ ’ 

Grace colored under the young man^s ardent 
gaze. She knew only too well that it was not 
alone curiosity to see Harlowe House that had 
taken Tom out of his way. “I’m sorry your 
curiosity didn’t devour you sooner,” she re- 
torted mischievously. “If only you had come 
here last week ! You could have made yourself 
invaluable. However, you are in time to meet 
Elfreda, at least.” 

“Yes, Tom,” declared his aunt, “you can’t 
afford to miss knowing Elfreda. “She is the 
counterpart of Hippy, and has kept Grace and 
I in a perpetual state of smiles during the past 
two weeks.” 

Tom helped his aunt out of the automobile 
and the three walked slowly toward the ve- 
randa where Elfreda stood waiting. A mo- 

3 — Grace Marlowe’s Return to Overton Campus* 


34 GEACE HAELOWE^S EETUEN 


ment later she and Tom were shaking hands 
and declaring that, having heard so much of 
each other from Grace, they were really old ac- 
quaintances. 

‘ AVhen are you going home?’’ Tom asked, as 
half an hour later, the party paused in the liv- 
ing-room after a tour of inspection which in- 
cluded the four floors. 

‘‘That is the main subject under discussion 
at present,” smiled Grace. “It must be very 
soon. If not to-morrow, then the day after. 
Here we are fairly into August and I have 
spent a very short time with Father and 
Mother. Then, too, the Phi Sigma Tau has a 
great many mysterious rites to observe before 
two of its members enter into that state known 
as matrimony. Also we expect Eleanor Savelli 
soon. She and her father and aunt are going 
to be at ‘Heartease’ for two or three months. 
Mabel Allison and her mother are coming east, 
and the Southards are coming home with Anne 
when their motion-picture work in California 
is done. I could go on naming plenty of other 
reasons, but those are the really important 
ones.” 

“I should say they were important ones,” 
agreed Tom. “It sounds as though there were 
to be some lively times in Oakdale. I’m going 
to try to make my vacation cover the wed- 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


35 


dings. I canT allow the Originals to get mar- 
ried, celebrate or jollificate without me.^’ 

‘^Oh, Tom, will you really U’ cried Grace 
with enthusiasm. ^‘I’ll let you know the mo- 
ment the date of the girls’ weddings is set.” 

‘‘Can you stay over until to-morrow, Tom?” 
asked Mrs. Gray. “Then we can go back to 
Oakdale on the late afternoon train.” 

“I’m afraid not, Aunt Kose, I’m a day late 
now. I’ll have to take the night train for 
Washington. Let me see.” He drew a time 
table from his coat pocket. “There is a train 
out of Overton at nine o’clock to-night. I’m 
due to catch it. But I’m going to take you all 
to dinner at the Tourraine and we are going 
for a drive afterward which will end at the sta- 
tion, where you will all see me on my desolate 
way. Are there any objections?” 

“Nothing but delighted acceptances, my dear 
boy,” assured his aunt, glancing fondly at her 
big, good-looking nephew. “I’ll venture to an- 
swer for the girls, too. ’ ’ 

“We’ll come to Tom’s dinner party, pro- 
vided he has luncheon with us,” stipulated 
Grace. “It’s almost noon now. Mrs. Elwood 
will have luncheon ready at one. You’d better 
come with us, Tom. We are going to have 
strawberry shortcake with whipped cream, for 
dessert.” 


36 GEACE HAELOWE^S EETUEN 


^‘You couldn’t lose me,” asserted Tom with 
slangy emphasis. ‘‘Shall I go on ahead and 
telephone for a car, Aunt Eosel” 

“No, I’ll walk to Wayne Hall with you chil- 
dren,” decided Mrs. Gray. 

“I wonder if there is anything else to be 
done,” murmured Grace, surveying the living-' 
room with anxious eyes. “Oh, my motto. It 
must hang directly above the archway.” 

“Where is it?” asked Elfreda. “We have 
time to put it up before we go to luncheon, and 
plenty of skilled laborers.” She cast a laugh- 
ing glance at Tom. 

‘ ‘ It isn ’t made yet, ’ ’ confessed Grace. ‘ ‘ Eva 
Allen’s brother, who is an artist, is illuminat- 
ing one for me.” 

“^Yhat is your motto, Grace?” asked Tom in- 
terestedly. 

“ ‘Blessed are they that have found their 
work,’ ” repeated Grace, her eyes on the spot 
Avhere she intended the precious motto to hang. 
Mrs. Gray had walked on into the hall, so there 
was only one pair of eyes to see the sudden 
tightening of Tom’s lips and the look of wist- 
fulness which crept into his face, and that pair 
of eyes belonged to Elfreda. 

“He cares a whole lot more for Grace than 
she cares for him,” was Elfreda ’s quick ap- 
praisal. “At heart, Grace is still a little girl, 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


37 


and will be for a long time to come. I hope 
when she does wake up it wonT be another 
prince who will do the awakening.’^ 


CHAPTER IV 

THE SECRET SESSION 

‘‘X FEEL more as though I were getting 
I ready for a funeral than about to give a 
dinner for the Eight Originals/’ sighed 
Grace Harlowe, as she joined her mother on 
the shady front porch, a little white and gold 
work bag, which Miss Southard had brought 
her from Paris, swinging from her arm. 
can’t realize that, within the next week, Nora 
and Jessica are actually going to become Mrs. 
Hippy Wingate and Mrs. Reddy Brooks. It 
seems ridiculous. Why it’s only yesterday that 
Jessica’s hair hung down her back in two 
braids, and Nora wore curls and short dresses.” 

can’t imagine Hippy in the role of a dig- 
nified bridegroom,” smiled Mrs. Harlowe. 
‘‘He is far more likely to convulse the wedding 
party and upset the whole solemn service than 
to conduct himself with strict propriety.” 

“He insists that he mil cover himself with 
glory if Reddy doesn ’t look at him, and Reddy 


38 GEACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


insists that he will sit and stare him out of 
countenance. David is to be Hippy ^s best man 
and Tom Gray Reddy’s, while Jessica is to be 
Nora’s maid of honor and Nora Jessica’s ma- 
tron of honor. She’s to be married first, you 
know. Mabel, Anne, Miriam Nesbit, Eleanor 
Savelli and I are to be the bridesmaids at both 
weddings,” went on Grace. ‘‘We’ll have a re- 
union of all our friends. The Gibsons are 
at home. Judge Putnam and his sister are 
coming down earlier from the Adirondacks; 
then there are Eleanor and her father. Miss 
Nevin and the Southards. Every one who has 
played an active part in our home lives will be 
on hand to see the girls married.” 

“But how can Nora go away on a wedding 
journey and be Jessica’s matron of honor, 
tool” asked Mrs. Harlowe. 

“She and Jessica went over that point a 
dozen times. You see Nora’s wedding takes 
place in the morning. She is going to have a 
wedding breakfast, then she and Hippy will go 
to the mountains for a week. They will return 
to Oakdale on the day of Jessica’s wedding, 
and leave for a long trip west the next morning. 
That was the best way they could carry out a 
compact they made last June to serve as maids 
of honor for each other.” 

Mrs. Harlowe listened to Grace’s flow of 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


39 


eager talk with a smile of content on her fine 
face. To her fond eyes Grace looked ab- 
surdly immature in her simple frock of white 
dotted Swiss. She was secretly glad that Over- 
ton, rather than marriage, had claimed her 
alert, self-reliant daughter for another year. 
Like every other mother she wished some day 
to see Grace happily settled in a home of her 
ovm, but she preferred to think of that someday 
as being still far distant. 

Grace took out of her bag a guest towel she 
was embroidering. It was the last of the half 
dozen towels she had worked for Jessica ^s hope 
chest. She was not fond of needlework. She 
preferred to spend her spare time playing golf 
and tennis, or riding and walking. This, as 
well as the hemstitched table cloth and napkins 
she had completed for Nora, was a labor of 
love. Now as she bent painstakingly over her 
work, she smiled to herself and wove a tender 
thread of loyalty and love into the pattern. 

A long clear trill caused her to raise her 
head quickly and spring to her feet with, 
‘‘Here they are, at last!’’ She ran to meet 
them. 

Three girls, or rather three young women, 
came loitering through the gate and up the 
walk, laughing gayly at something the girl in 
the center was relating for their benefit. 


40 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


‘‘Now what has Hippy doneT’ guessed 
Grace shrewdly. 

“You might know it was something about 
him/^ said Jessica Bright. “This time it was 
a case of what was done to him. Tell the lady 
all over again, Nora.’^ 

“It certainly was funny, dimpled Nora. 
“You see, Grace, Hippy and Edith and I were 
going for a ride, last night, in his new car. We 
waited and waited for him and couldn’t 
imagine why he didn’t come. About ten 
o’clock he came tearing along at a speed that 
would have made a traffic officer turn pale. 
Edith and I were still sitting on the porch. I 
pretended I was dreadfully offended until he 
told me where he had been, then Edith and I 
laughed until we almost cried.” 

“Where had he been?” asked Grace curi- 
ously. 

The three girls giggled in unison. 

“Locked in the cellar,” returned Nora mirth- 
fully. “He was all ready to go for his car 
when he happened to remember that he wanted 
a wrench from the tool chest in the cellar. His 
father is away this week and there was no one 
in the house but the cook. She was all ready to 
go away for the evening, too. She didn ’t know 
Hippy was in the cellar, so she locked all the 
doors, the cellar door included, and went on her 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


41 


way rejoicing. Hippy said he pounded and 
shonted and howled and wailed and pounded 
some more. CanT you imagine just how funny 
he must have looked? He couldnT climb out 
of the cellar windows, for they are too small 
and he is too fat, so he had to stay there until 
almost ten o’clock. He says he sat on the cellar 
steps most of the time and thought of the 
happy past. At last the cook came home 
and when he heard her walking around up- 
stairs he pounded and shouted again. She 
thought he was a burglar, just as though a 
burglar would make all that noise, and wasn’t 
going to let him out. He insists that he ruined 
his voice forever in trying to convince her that 
he was himself. He says his frenzied pleadings 
finally touched her adamant heart, and she 
opened the cellar door very cautiously at the 
rate of about a sixteenth of an inch per minute.’^ 

Grace laughed with the others, as Nora fin- 
ished. ‘‘Poor Hippy,” she commented, “he is 
always falling into difficulties. I must ask him 
about his evening in the cellar.” 

“Yes, do,” urged Nora. “He tried to swear 
Edith and me to secrecy, but we refused to be 
sworn.” 

“It will make Eeddy so happy,” laughed 
Anne. 

“Oh, Anne, dear, you don’t know how splen- 


42 GRACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


did it seems to have you home again ex- 
claimed Grace. ‘‘lUs just like old times. I 
can’t help feeling sad though. We thought when 
we were graduated from high school that our 
parting of the ways had come, but now that we 
are all standing on the verge of our life work, 
it seems to me that this is going to be the real 
parting. I can’t help wondering if things will 
seem quite the same again when we gather 
home next year.” 

‘‘Of course they will,” declared practical 
Nora. “Grace Harlowe, don’t you dare to 
grow gloomy and retrospective. We four are 
chums for life, and not all the weddings and 
stage careers and Harlowe House positions in 
the world can change us.” 

“I know they can’t. I won’t make any more 
excursions into the Valley of Doubt,” promised 
Grace. 

They had stopped on the walk to tall^, now 
they moved slowly toward the veranda, four 
abreast, a bright-eyed, happy quartette. Mrs. 
Harlowe greeted her daughter’s friends as af- 
fectionately as though they were her ovm chil- 
dren. ‘ ‘ Did you bring your work, girls, or is it 
to be a case of idle hands 7 ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Idle hands ! ’ ’ exclaimed Nora. ‘ ‘ Far from 
it. Jessica has a blouse to finish and I have 
innumerable initials to embroider.” 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


43 


‘‘I am the only idle one,’’ confessed Anne. 
‘‘I am sorry to say that I haven’t the least de- 
sire to be industrious. I prefer to sit with my 
hands folded and watch the rest of you work. It 
sounds lazy, doesn’t it?” 

‘‘Not a bit of it,” declared Grace loyally. 
“You’ve done your work, Anne. It’s time you 
took a rest. Make yourselves comfy, girls. 
Here, give me your hats and parasols. I’ll put 
them in the hall.” 

In a moment Grace returned, and sitting 
down by Nora, who had stationed herself in 
the big porch smng, she picked up her work and 
began to embroider industriously. 

For the space of half an hour the little com- 
pany worked busily, keeping up a running ac- 
companiment of merry conversation broken 
vdth light laughter. It was Nora’s quick eyes 
which first saw Grace lay down her work with 
an impatient sigh. An instant later Grace dis- 
covered that Nora’s industry was flagging. 
Mrs. Harlowe had just gone into the house. 
Anne was leaning back in her chair, her eyes 
fixed dreamily upon the far horizon, while 
Jessica, alone, plodded patiently along, too 
much absorbed in the development of the but- 
terfly pattern she was embroidering to note 
that two of her companions were lagging. A 
sudden silence fell upon them all. It was 


44 GEACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 

broken by Nora’s quick tones. ‘‘I’ll take it all 
back,” she averred. “I’m strictly in favor of 
idle hands. Let’s put our work away and go for 
a walk!” 

“For this brilliant idea, we thank you,” re- 
turned Anne, coming out of her dream in a 
hurry. 

“TVliy not walk over to the old Omnibus 
House,” suggested Grace. 

“Brillianter and brillianter, ” nodded Nora. 
“^Vhat could be more fitting than to make a 
pilgrimage to the scenes of our high school 
days? I haven’t been there in ages.” 

“Neither have I,” was Grace’s quick re- 
sponse. “It’s only half-past three. We’ll have 
plenty of time to go there and back before din- 
ner. The boys won’t be here until six o’clock. 
You know that Tom Gray arrived yesterday, I 
supx)ose ? That makes the Eight Originals com- 
plete. We’ll have to do without the Plus Two, 
because Miriam hasn’t come home yet and 
Arnold won’t be here until the night before 
Nora’s wedding.” 

“How I miss Miriam,” sighed Grace. 

“We never dreamed when we were freshmen 
that she would ever be our close friend, d^ 
we?” asked Nora. 

“She’s a dear, and no mistake,” agreed 
Jessica. Then, her glance straying to Anne, 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 45 

‘AVhat makes Anne look so mysterious U ’ 

Anne smiled. ‘ ‘ I ’ll tell yon the most surpris- 
ing secret you ever heard, but not until we get 
to the Omnibus House and are seated in a row 
on the old stone steps behind it.” 

‘‘Then let’s away!” exclaimed Nora. “We 
won’t need our hats. Two parasols will be 
enough to shade us from the sun.” 

Five minutes later the four girls trooped 
down the steps and strolled through the fa- 
miliar streets in the direction of their old play- 
ground. The afternoon sun beamed so gently 
and kindly upon them that it was not long be- 
fore they closed their parasols and walked with 
their heads uncovered to his tempered rays. To 
see a bevy of girls walking in the quiet streets 
of the little city without hats was the common- 
est sight, and the quartette attracted little at- 
ention a&dhey sauntered along. 

After leaving Oakdale behind, it was not 
more than ten minutes ’ walk across the fields to 
the quaint old stone house which had been the 
scene of so many of their high school revels. 

“What a lot of good times we have had 
here,” mused Nora reminiscently, as they 
pajised before the quaint old building, that had 
once been a tavern, and was, goodness knew, 
how many years old. “Shall you ever forget 
the time we buried the hatchet?” 


46 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


‘‘Never!’’ chorused three emphatic voices. 

“Wasn’t Julia Crosby too ridiculous for 
words?” declared Jessica. Her smile of recol- 
lection was reflected in the faces of her 
friends. 

“That reminds me,” remarked Nora, “I 
have something to tell you girls too.” 

“Let’s have a ‘secret’ session,” proposed 
Jessica. “Every one who wishes to attend 
must be ready to tell a secret the moment we sit 
down on the steps.” 

“ ‘A secret is a secret, only, when Imown to 
three persons, two of which are dead,’ ” quoted 
Anne mischievously. 

“These secrets mustn’t be the heart-to-heart, 
keep-it-to-yourself-f orever kind, ’ ’ stipulated 
Nora. “They mustn’t be of the complex va- 
riety either. Dark secrets are also strictly 
tabooed from this session.” 

“Stop laying down rules and regulations,” 
laughed Grace, “and let us form our secret 
row. I am eaten up with curiosity to know 
what Anne and Nora know.” 

‘ ‘ Are you eligible ? ’ ’ quizzed Nora. ‘ ‘ That is 
the important question. Anne you must head 
the row. You began this session.” 

Anne complied obediently. 

Nora sat dovm beside her. 

Grace stood eyeing Nora thoughtfully. Then 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


47 


her eyes sparkled. eligible,’^ she an- 

nounced as she made a third. 

‘‘So am I,’’ declared Jessica a trifle soberly, 
taking her place at the other end of the 
row. 

“Ladies and no gentlemen,^’ announced 
Nora, rising and bowing profoundly to the 
three girls, “the great secret session of the 
four inseparables is about to begin. Eemem- 
ber, you are not limited to one secret. If you 
happen to know several, now is the time to tell 
them. Go ahead, Anne.” 

Nora seated herself again and with the eyes 
of her chums fixed expectantly upon her, Anne 
began the secret session. 


CHAPTER V 

THE WAY TO PERPETUAL YOUTH 

I ^HIS isn’t a secret that any one told me,” 
I stated Anne. “It’s something I found 
out for myself. One of the two per- 
sons it concerns doesn’t know it yet. Perhaps 
she will never know.” 

“How mysteriously interesting,” commented 
Nora. “Hurry on with it, Anne. Who are the 
persons concerned?” 


48 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


‘‘Mr. Southard and’’ — ^Anne paused briefly 
to give due effect to her words — “Miriam.” 

A ripple of surprise passed along the row. 

“What do you mean, Anne?” was Grace’s 
quick question. 

“I mean that for nearly four years Mr. 
Southard has cared for Miriam,” replied Anne 
steadily. 

Nora’s puckered red lips emitted a surprised 
whistle. 

“This is news,” averred Jessica. “But 
Miriam could never care for him. He is so 
much older.” 

“How old do you imagine Mr. Southard to 
be, Jessica?” asked Anne slyly. 

“Oh, I don’t know. He must be ” 

Jessica paused reflectively. Then a sudden 
look of astonishment passed over her face. 
“WTiy how funny! He isn’t really old. I 
don’t believe he is as old as thirty-five, but he 
seems older.” 

Anne nodded. “He is thirty-three. That 
isn’t very ancient, is it?” 

“Miriam is twenty-four,” mused Grace 
aloud. She is so brilliant, self-possessed and 
stunning that one feels as though she were 
even older than that. I know she is very 
fond of the Southards, but I don’t believe she 
suspects that Mr. Southard ” 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


49 


‘‘She doesnT/’ put in Anne eagerly. “He 
has been careful that she shouldnT. I believe 
Miss Southard knows, but she would never say 
so, even to me. Do you remember the time we 
went to New York City for Thanksgiving, when 
we were freshmen at Overton, Grace? Well, 
it began then. I know him so thoroughly that 
I could see things that you girls couldn’t. 
After that I took particular pains to notice the 
way he acted toward Miriam whenever they 
met, and, as Elfreda says, I could see his love 
for her grow and deepen. He cared a great 
deal last commencement, and he was so dread- 
fully afraid she ’d find out that he actually kept 
away from her.” 

“I remember that,” interposed Grace. 
“Miriam noticed it, too. She told me that she 
was afraid she had in some way offended Mr. 
Southard, for he treated her with almost dis- 
tant courtesy. I suppose he imagines himself 
as being too old for Miriam.” 

“This is an interesting secret and no mis- 
take,” said Nora, wagging her head with satis- 
faction, “but what about poor Arnold Evans?” 

“You are running ahead too fast, Nora,” 
smiled Anne. “Remember Miriam doesn’t sus- 
pect that Mr. Southard loves her. The chances 
are she doesn’t nor never will care for him. 
But I’ll be generous and tell you another se- 

4 — Grace Harlowe*s Return to Overton Campus. 


50 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


cret. Miriam and Arnold aren’t the least bit 
in love with each other.” 

‘‘Do yon know, Anne, I’ve always thought 
that, too,” agreed Grace. “They have always 
acted more like two good comrades.” 

“Exactly,” replied Anne, “but, as far as I 
am concerned, girls, to me it would be a won- 
derful thing if some day Everett Southard and 
Miriam Nesbit should decide that they were 
necessary to each other’s welfare. They are 
so admirably suited in temperament, disposi- 
tion, and all that goes toward making two per- 
sons absolutely happy. ’ ’ 

“Hear the sage expound life and love,” gig- 
gled Nora. “What about poor David’s future 
happiness I” 

Anne flushed. “I can’t answer that ques- 
tion,” she said, after a little pause. “It does 
sound rather silly for me to go on talking about 
the love a:ffairs of others when I can’t settle 
my own. Not that I love David less, but acting 
more,” she finished almost tremulously. “I 
move that we go on to the next secret. ’ ’ 

“Mine is about Julia Crosby,” began Nora, 
“and I can tell you in few words. She’s en- 
gaged to a Harvard man.” 

“Really!” exclaimed Grace delightedly. 
“Where did you see her, Nora? I didn’t know 
she was at home.” 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


51 


‘ ‘ She came home from the mountains yester- 
day. I saw her in Carlton’s, that new confec- 
tioner’s shop on Main Street. We had a sundae 
together and she told me all about it. She has 
known her fiance for two years. She met him 
at a Harvard dance. He was graduated last 
June from the Harvard law school. The en- 
gagement hasn’t been formally announced yet. 
She’s going to give a luncheon to announce 
it. She wanted me to be sure and tell you 
three girls. She is coming to see you soon, 
Grace.” 

‘H’U receive Tier with open arms,” assured 
Grace. 

‘‘That was a nice secret,” conunented Anne. 
“Now, Grace.” 

“Our fairy godmother is coming to dinner 
to-night.” 

“Hurrah!” cried Anne, standing up and 
waving her hand. “I didn’t know she was 
within two hundred miles of Oakdale. It seems 
years instead of weeks since I saw her. When 
did she arrive in Oakdale*?” 

“This morning. She telephoned me. In my 
last letter I mentioned my dinner to you girls, 
and said I wished she might be here too. She 
came home from the seashore a week earlier so 
as not to miss it. She didn’t say not to tell you. 
I had been holding it back as a surprise. It 


52 GKACE HAELOWE’S EETUEN 


served me in good stead by making me eligible 
to Secret Eow.’’ 

^‘Last but not least, Jessica,’^ reminded Nora 
briskly. 

was going to tell you this evening when 
we were all together, and Eeddy promised to 
help me, but, somehow, I’d rather tell you now, 
while we are together on these dear old steps 
where we Ve had so much fun. ’ ’ 

Something in Jessica’s tone caused the eyes 
of her friends to search hers inquiringly. It 
carried with it unmistakable regret. It pre- 
saged parting. 

Reddy and I aren’t going to live in Oakdale 
this winter. We — ^we — are going — to — Chicago 
to live.” 

^^Oh!” Nora ejaculated, drawing her breath 
sharply. ‘‘Oh, Jessica!” 

A painful silence fell upon the row of girls, 
whose voices had only a moment since rung out 
so gayly. 

Nora sat staring straight ahead of her with 
quivering lips. Of the three girls she would 
miss Jessica the most sorely. Grace, too, felt 
that dreadful sense of loss, of which she had 
complained earlier in the afternoon, stealing 
down upon her. Anne’s face wore a look of 
loving concern, but an expression of resigna- 
tion to destiny, which was likely to lead one to 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


53 


the ends of the earth, Inrked in her somber 
eyes. She had learned yonng to how with the 
best possible grace to the inevitable. 

Suddenly a half-stifled sob broke the oppres- 
sive qniet. 

‘‘Nora, yon mustn’t,’^ protested Jessica 
weakly, bnt Nora’s cnrly head was already 
resting on Grace’s comforting shonlder, and 
an instant afterward Jessica songht the conso- 
lation of the other shonlder. 

“Girls, girls,” soothed Grace, an arm aronnd 
each, ‘ ‘ yon mnstn ’t cry. ’ ’ Nevertheless she ex- 
perienced a wild desire to lift np her voice and 
lament with them. “I know yon looked for- 
ward to being together this winter. It’s ter- 
ribly disappointing, bnt yon can write letters 
and visit each other, and next snmmer, J essica, 
yon mnst arrange to come to Oakdale and stay 
all snmmer. Why didn ’t yon tell ns before ? ’ ’ 

“Reddy didn’t know it nntil yesterday,” 
faltered Jessica. “His father has taken over a 
large bnsiness there and he wants Reddy to 
manage it for him. Reddy’s mother doesn’t 
want to live in Chicago, so Mr. Brooks wants 
Reddy to go.” 

“It’s the real parting of the ways,” said 
Grace softly to Anne. 

Anne nodded. “Still, if we had onr choice 
as to whether we wonld like to go back and live 


54 GEACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


over our past or go on, I am sure we’d choose 
to go on,” she said thoughtfully. ‘‘Don’t you 
think so, Grace?” 

“Of course we would,” agreed Grace cheer- 
fully. “Good gracious, girls!” she exclaimed 
in sudden consternation. “Whose familiar fig- 
ures are those coming across the field? It must 
be later than I thought.” 

Nora’s and Jessica’s mourning heads bobbed 
up from Grace’s shoulders with simultaneous 
alacrity. 

“Hippy!” gasped Nora. “Do I look as 
though I’d been crying? I wouldn’t have him 
know it for the world.” 

“Reddy!” recognized Jessica. “Are my 
eyes a sight?” 

“Also David and Tom,” added Anne. “No, 
children, you haven’t wept enough to perma- 
nently disfigure your charming faces. If the 
boys had not appeared we might now be weep- 
ing in a melancholy row. I had no idea that 
Jessica’s secret was to be a positive tragedy.” 

“Neither had I,” responded Grace soberly, 
laying an affectionate hand on Jessica’s arm. 

There was no time for further remarks on 
the subject, for the four young men were cross- 
ing the last field in record time. As they neared 
the row of young women Hippy Wingate picked 
up his coat and pirouetted toward them, a wide 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


55 


smile on his round face, as he chanted gayly in 
a high voice : 

'‘Children go, to and fro 
In a merry pretty row; 

Faces bright, all alight, 

’Tis a happy, happy sight. 

Swiftly turning round and round. 

Do not look upon the ground ; 

Follow me, full of glee. 

Singing merrily.’’ 

With each line of the song Hippy executed a 
most astonishing figure, ending on “merrily” 
Avith a funny pas-seul that turned the sorrow of 
the lately disconsolate audience to laughter. 

“How did you like that?” he inquired af- 
fably, as he landed directly in front of the 
steps. “Shall I sing the chorus now or would 
you prefer to hear it later.” 

“Later, by all means,” flung back Nora. 

“As you please. As you please,” returned 
Hippy with a careless wave of his hand. “I am 
not chary of my art. I ask for but one recom- 
pense.” 

“There he goes,” groaned Dave Nesbit. 

“I’m not going,” retorted Hippy, with dig- 
nity. “I’m standing perfectly still. However, 
I did not come away out here in this field to 


56 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURK 


quarrel with you, David Nesbit. I came be- 
cause I am a ’’ 

‘‘Nuisance,’’ suggested Reddy. 

“Precisely. No, I don’t mean anything of 
the sort. I am not a nuisance. A nuisance is a 
tall, thin, conceited person with flaming red 
hair, pale blue eyes, a freckled nose and a 
slanderous tongue. His name begins with R 
and he is ” 

Without finishing his sentence Hippy took to 
his heels and disappeared around the corner of 
the Omnibus House, with an agility worthy of a 
better cause. 

“I’ll see that he keeps at a safe distance 
from us till we start for Grace’s,” was Reddy’s 
grim comment. “You’ll see his head appear at 
that corner in a minute, and then, look out !” 

They waited in mirthful silence. True to 
Reddy’s prediction Hippy’s round face was 
suddenly thrust into view. Reddy leaped 
toward him. There was a horrified, “Oh, 
dreadful!” from Hippy, and the sound of run- 
ning feet. 

“He’s afraid of me,” boasted Reddy in a 
purposely loud tone. 

“Don’t you ever believe it,” contradicted 
Hippy’s voice. “I like the view from this side 
of the Omnibus House. I think Nora would 
like it, too.” 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


57 


‘^Siich thoughtfulness is rare/’ jeered David. 

’Tis better to have thought such thoughts, 
than never to have thought at all, ’ ’ retorted the 
voice plaintively. 

Let’s eradicate him from the face of the 
earth, Reddy,” proposed David. ^‘He’s a blot 
upon the community.” 

^‘No-r-a,” wailed the voice, ‘‘aren’t you go- 
ing to help your little friend?” 

“Rescue him, Nora,” declared David dis- 
gustedly. “That’s the reason he created all 
this disturbance.” 

Nora dimpled, the pink in her cheeks deep- 
ening. 

“Yes, do,” urged Grace. “It is high time 
for us to start home. We must be there to re- 
ceive Mrs. Gray.” 

“She sent me on ahead,” informed Tom. “I 
wanted to wait and bring her over in my car, 
but she is going to have Haynes bring her over 
in the carriage.” 

Nora disappeared around the corner of the 
house, but reappeared immediately, leading by 
the hand a broadly smiling Hippy, who carried 
a huge bouquet of buttercups and daisies in his 
free hand and cavorted at her side as joy- 
ously as the proverbial lambkin on the green. 

“You can lead the way with him, Nora,” di- 
rected David. “I wouldn’t trust him to bring 


58 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


up the rear. Reddy and I want him where we 
can keep an eye upon him.’’ 

‘^Certainly we shall lead the way,” flung 
back Hippy, ‘^but not because you say so. Our 
superior rank places us in the front row of the 
procession. Come on, Nora. May I sing and 
dance? I haven’t sung the chorus yet, you 
know.” 

Without waiting for permission Hippy 
pranced ahead of her on his toes, swaying from 
side to side and scattering the flowers from 
his bouquet, his voice rising in a falsetto 
chorus of: 

‘ ‘ Singing merrily, merrily, merrily, 
Follow me, full of glee. 

Singing merrily.” 

‘‘He’ll never grow old,” said Anne, as she 
watched Hippy’s ridiculous performance. 

“Neither will the rest of the Eight Origi- 
nals,” reminded Grace loyally. “Remember, 
we have a Fairy Godmother who has taught us 
the secret of perpetual youth.” 

“What’s the secret?” asked David inno- 
cently. He was fond of hearing Grace’s en- 
thusiastic views of things. 

“Never lose one’s grip on life,” she an- 
swered simply. 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


59 


And as the Eight Originals strolled home 
through the radiant sunset, in each young soul 
stirred the resolve to take a firm grip on life 
and keep eternally young at heart, no matter 
what the years might bring forth. 


CHAPTER VI 

JESSICA ^S WEDDING 

‘‘ T ESSICA BRIGHT you will never look 
I prettier in your life than you do to- 
night ! ’ ’ exclaimed Grace Harlowe, as she 
stood off a little from her friend and gazed at 
her with loving eyes. 

A wave of color dyed Jessica ^s pale cheeks. 
‘H’m so glad that you think so,’’ she breathed. 
‘ ‘ Do you know, girls, I have always hoped that 
I’d look nicer on my wedding day than at any 
other time. I’m glad I decided to have a green 
and white wedding, too. 

‘‘You always used to say that you were going 
to have a pink rose wedding,” reminded Anne. 
‘ ‘ What made you change your mind. ’ ’ 
“Promise you won’t laugh and I’ll tell you,” 
said Jessica solemnly. 

It was the evening of Jessica’s wedding and 
Mabel Allison, Anne Pierson, Miriam Nesbit, 


60 GEACE HAELOWE’S EETUEN 


Eleanor Savelli, Nora, now Mrs. Hippy Win- 
gate, and Grace gathered about their friend 
with voluble promises of eternal secrecy. They 
were in Jessica’s room saying good-bye to 
Jessica Bright, so soon to become Jessica 
Brooks. 

changed my mind,’’ informed Jessica im- 
pressively, ‘‘on account of Eeddy’s hair.” 

“ ‘On account of Eeddy’s hair,’ ” repeated 

Grace. “Why ” Then, catching Nora’s 

eye, she laughed. 

“You know how dreadfully pink and red 
clash,” Jessica went on, vdth a faint giggle, 
“but I had never thought of it until one night 
when Eeddy was sitting on our porch. He 
wrapped my pink scarf around his neck just 
for fun, and I made up my mind then and there 
not to have a pink wedding. Finally, I chose 
green and white, and I’m glad now, because he 
will look so much nicer.” 

“I think that was very sweet in you, 
Jessica,” said Eleanor Savelli decidedly. 

“Some of us ought to tell Eeddy of Jessica’s 
thoughtfulness,” teased Anne. 

“Just as though any of you would,” replied 
Jessica, fondly surveying the smiling faces of 
her friends. 

“You are very sure of us, aren’t you, 
Jessica?” said Grace gayly. 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


61 


‘‘And always shall be,’’ answered Jessica 
simply. “Do yon remember, girls, when I was 
about fourteen how frightfully sentimental I 
used to be. I read every love story I could lay 
hands on. I was forever imagining my wed- 
ding day. My bridegroom was always tall and 
dark, with piercing black eyes and a kingly air, 
and I always pictured myself as wearing a pink 
satin dress and being married in church. Some- 
times fate parted us at the altar and sometimes 
we lived happily ever afterward. I used to 
plan that on the day of my wedding I would 
lock myself in my room, put on my pink satin 
dress and sit all day in rapt meditation. I 
would eat nothing, and see no one, not even, 
father, until the moment when I swept grandly 
out into the hall and down the stairs to my car- 
riage. Of course, I was transcendently beauti- 
ful and there were always two or three disap- 
pointed lovers, who came to the church and cast 
sad, yearning eyes upon me as I glided up the 
center aisle with my hero. I never dreamed, 
then, that Reddy Brooks, my schoolmate and 
playfellow, was to be my destiny,” she con- 
tinued, her eyes growing tender, “or that I 
should begin my journey with him in our dear 
old parlor, surrounded by my chums. I haven’t 
the least desire to sit alone and moon and med- 
itate. I want all of you with me. It seems the 


62 GEACE HAELOWE’S EETUEN 


most natural thing in the world that I should 
walk down the same old stairs to the same old 
parlor to meet the same old Eeddy, just as IVe 
done dozens of times before.’^ 

^‘It’s five minutes to eight, girls,’’ announced 
Miriam IsTesbit. ‘‘Say, good-bye to Jessica 
Bright, and don’t one of you dare to shed a 
tear.” 

One after another the girls embraced Jessica. 
Nora was last. She and Jessica remained in 
each other’s arms for a long, sweet moment. 
Their devotion was as deep and true as that 
which existed between Grace and Anne. 

‘‘Here are the flower girls. It’s time, 
Jessica,” said Grace softly, as the two little 
girls who had been chosen to act in that capac- 
ity entered the room accompanied by Ellen, the 
Brights’ old servant, who had been in the 
household since Jessica’s babyhood. They 
were pretty, dark-haired children, cousins of 
Jessica’s, and wore white lace frocks over 
pale green silk. On their heads were wreaths 
of tiny double white daisies and they carried 
small baskets filled to overflowing with the 
same flower. 

Quietly the little procession began to form. 
Nora, as matron of honor, followed the flower 
girls. She wore her wedding gown of white 
satin, and carried a huge armful of white roses. 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


63 


Then came the bride. As Grace had said 
Jessica would, in all probability, never look 
lovelier than in her wedding dress of white 
satin. Her veil of wonderful yellow- white old 
lace, was an heirloom, Jessica being the fourth 
bride in the family to wear it, and her bouquet 
was a shower of lilies of the valley. Jessica 
possessed a dazzlingly white skin, and the 
purity of her complexion had never showed to 
better advantage. Her deeply bine eyes were 
dark with reverence and her whole face radi- 
ated a tender happiness that made it rarely 
lovely. The bridesmaids wore gowns of white 
chitfon over pale green chiffon which blended 
into a misty, seafoam etfect. Dainty girdles of 
palest green satin and exquisite hair ornaments 
composed of tiny chiffon flowers and satin 
leaves, together with white satin slippers and 
white silk stockings, completed their costumes, 
and they carried shower bouquets of white 
sweet peas. 

Down the stairs swept the bridal procession 
to the strains of Mendelssohn ^s wedding march 
played by the orchestra, stationed in a palm- 
screened corner of the wide hall. It was the 
same old orchestra which had become so closely 
identified with the good times of the Eight 
Originals during their high school days. 
Jessica had declared laughingly that it would 


64 GEACE HAELOWE’S EETUEN 


seem almost a sacrilege to think of being mar- 
ried to the strains of a wedding march that was 
not played by them. At the foot of the stairs 
the bride was met by her father, and the wed- 
ding party moved slowly into and down the 
long parlor to the bow window at the end of 
the room which had been transformed into a 
fairy bower of green. Before a bank of ferns, 
white roses and white sweet peas stood the old 
clergyman who had said the last solemn words 
over Jessica’s mother years before, and who 
had come from another city, many miles dis- 
tant, to marry Jessica and Eeddy. Here it was 
that the bridegroom, accompanied by his best 
man, Tom Gray, awaited his one-time play- 
mate, his boyhood friend, his first and only 
sweetheart, who had now come in all the 
bravery of her wedding finery to place her 
hands, trnstingly, confidently in his for the 
jonrney over the untrodden trail they were to 
blaze together. 

A soft murmur that was almost a sigh went 
up from the assembled guests as Mr. Bright 
handed his most precious treasure into the 
keeping of the man who had claimed her for 
his own, and the beautiful Episcopal ring serv- 
ice began. Jessica’s responses were clear and 
unfaltering, while Eeddy ’s firm earnest tones 
carried conviction of the sincerity of his vows. 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


65 


Notwithstanding the fact that the appellation 
of ‘‘Eeddy/’ by which he was known through- 
out Oakdale, arose from his unmistakably red 
hair, Lawrence Brooks looked singularly hand- 
some on his wedding night and the expression 
of proud affection in his eyes, as he took 
Jessica ^s hand, was plainly indicative of the 
love he bore her. 

The moment the ceremony was over Eeddy 
kissed Jessica, who lifted loving eyes to his, 
then, turning, wound both arms about her 
father’s neck. The bridesmaids quickly 
hemmed them in and the guests crowded about 
them to otfer their congratulations. Only the 
intimate friends of Eeddy and Jessica had been 
invited to attend the ceremony, Mrs. Allison, 
the Southards, the Putnams, Mrs. Gibson, Eva 
Allen and James Gardner, Julia Crosby, 
Marian Barber, Mrs. Gray, Miss Nevin, Guido 
Savelli, Arnold Evans, Donald Earle, the im- 
mediate families of the bride and groom and 
the families of the rest of the Eight Originals 
Plus Two. 

The reception, which was to begin at half- 
past eight, included the greater part of Oak- 
dale’s younger set, and before it was over 
Eeddy and Jessica were to slip away and motor 
to the next town, there to catch the night train 
to New York. From there they were to take a 

5 — Grace Harlowe^s Return to Overton Campus, 


66 GEACE HAELOAYE’S EETUEN 


boat bound for the West Indies where they had 
planned to spend a month’s honeymoon, then 
journey to their Chicago home. 

‘‘Well, Eeddy,” declared Hippy condescend- 
ingly, when, a little later the Eight Originals 
stood near the flower bank indulging in a brief 
old-time chat before the arrival of the recep- 
tion guests, “I must say that you did very well, 
and Jessica, too.” He beamed on the bride, 
with a wide patronizing smile that caused her 
new dignity to vanish in a giggle of ready ap- 
preciation of the irrepressible Hippy. “I 
hoped that you, Eeddy, would glance at me for 
inspiration. There you stood, like a wooden 
Indian, I mean a marble statue, and never 
winked. But as you stood there a beautiful 
thought came to me. I understood precisely 
why the name of ‘Eeddy’ was appropriate to 
you. The electric light shone softly down upon 
your gleaming Titian locks, as though to call 
attention to their crimson glory. There was 
a look of ” 

“Nora, if you value the life of your husband, 
remove him,” broke in David Nesbit decisively. 
“Eeddy is trying to behave with the becoming 
dignity of a newly-wed, and I appeal to you, 
how can he?” 

“He can’t,” agreed Nora. “I’ll remove the 
obstacle at once.” 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


67 


“You’ll have to use strategy to do it,” an- 
nounced Hippy. 

‘ ‘ ‘ Come one, come all, this rock shall fly 
From its firm base as soon as I ! ’ ” 

he quoted determinedly, with jerky little ges- 
tures. Planting himself behind Jessica, he 
caught up a corner of her veil and peered defi- 
antly through it at David. 

“You haven’t seen the bride’s table in the 
tent yet, have you. Hippy?” inquired Grace in- 
nocently. “It looks so pretty.” 

“The bride’s table!” Hippy’s defiant face 
broke into an expansive, affable grin. “No, 
but I’d love to see it. Show it to me, in- 
stantly.” 

“I’ll take charge of him, Grace,” interposed 
Nora. “If he inspects the refreshment tent it 
must be under guard.” 

“I’ve changed my mind. I don’t care to see 
it. I’d rather stay here and offer a few more 
congratulations to Reddy. Grace’s strategy 
was very clever, but Nora’s bullying is all 
wrong. I won’t be taken charge of.” 

But in spite of his vigorous protests Nora 
slipped her arm through his and piloted him in 
the direction of the huge refreshment tent 
which had been erected on the lawn. There 


68 GEACE HAELOWE’S EETUEN 


the wedding supper was to be served by cater- 
ers at small tables. 

^^What a treasure Hippy is/’ said Anne, as 
the group of young people smilingly watched 
Hippy and Nora out of sight. ^‘He is so funny 
and nice that he takes away that half-sad feel- 
ing that one almost always has at a wedding. 
I am sure I don’t know why seeing two friends 
made happy should inspire one with a desire to 
cry, but it does.” 

‘‘Weddings and commencements are always 
more or less solemn and productive of weeps, ’ ’ 
answered Grace. “Eemember not one of us is 
going to shed a tear when Jessica leaves us. 
This has been such a sweet, happy wedding that 
we mustn’t spoil its gladness. Of course, I 
can’t imagine you boys lifting up your voices 
in lamentation, but I’m not so sure of the femi- 
nine half of the Eight Originals.” 

“I couldn’t help crying a little when Nora 
was married,” confessed Jessica. “A church 
wedding seems so much more solemn, and 
Hippy was far too busy being a dignified bride- 
groom to say funny things.” 

“He was perfect, wasn’t he!” agreed Anne 
earnestly. “I never dreamed he could look so 
reverent and devoted. I don’t know which was 
nicer, Jessica, Nora’s wedding or yours. They 
were both beautiful.” Happening to catch 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


69 


David grave eyes fixed searchingly upon her 
she flushed and said hastily, ‘‘It must be almost 
time for the reception to begin/’ 

“So it is, and if I’m not mistaken here come 
the first guests,” remarked Tom Gray. 

For the next hour Jessica and Reddy were 
kept busy receiving the congratulations of the 
steady inpouring of friends who came to wish 
them godspeed. Then followed the wedding 
supper, and it was almost eleven o’clock when 
Jessica slipped away from her guests, and a 
little later, appeared at the head of the stairs in 
a smart tailored suit of brown, with hat, shoes 
and gloves to match. No secret had been made 
of their departure, for their friends were not 
of those who delighted in playing embarrassing 
and discomforting pranks. In fact, the ma- 
jority of the reception guests had departed, and 
it was their intimate friends who were to see 
them off on their journey. 

Surrounded by her loved ones, J essica made 
a second triumphal journey down the stairs. 
In the hall a halt was made and the dreaded 
good-byes began. Jessica clung first to her* 
father, then to her aunt. Her chums came next 
and she was passed from one to the other of 
them with warm expressions of affection and 
good will. Then the procession moved on and 
the second halt was made at the drive where a 


70 GEACE HAELOWE^S EETUEN 


limousine stood waiting to receive tlie bridal 
pair. It glided away amid a shower of rice and 
several old shoes, which had been carefully se- 
lected beforehand by Hippy, David and Grace, 
leaving six of the Eight Originals gazing after 
it with eloquent eyes in which lay the meaning 
of ‘ ^ Auld Lang Syne. ’ ’ 

‘‘I love weddings,’^ gushed Hippy sentiment- 
ally, as the six strolled back to the house. 
hope I shall have at least two more wedding 
invitations this year.’’ 

No one answered this pointed sally. Nora 
gave her loquacious husband’s arm a warning 
pinch. 

‘^Stop pinching my arm, Nora,” he pro- 
tested in a grieved tone. ‘^How can you be so 
cruel to little me?” 

This was too much for the silent four. They 
looked into each other’s eyes and laughed. Then 
Dave said quietly, ‘‘Not this year, old man.” 

“Perhaps we can promise you one for next 
fall. Hippy,” said Anne, with a sudden temerity 
which surprised her as well as the others. 

“Anne!” David’s voice vibrated with new- 
born hope. For the instant he forgot every- 
thing except the fact that Anne had at last ap- 
proached some degree of definiteness regard- 
ing their future. 

“I said ‘perhaps,’ ” laughed Anne, but be- 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


71 


hind her laughter David read the blessed truth 
that in Anne’s secret heart there was no ‘‘per- 
haps,” and the little hand which lay so con- 
tentedly in his, as they strolled up the walk to 
the house, made the assurance of his new joy 
doubly sure. 

“Why can’t you make me happy too, 
Grace?” asked Tom in a low, reproachful 
tone. They had dropped a little to the rear of 
the others. 

“I’m sorry, Tom,” faltered Grace, “but I 
can’t. I am fonder of you than any other man 
I know, but it is the fondness of long friend- 
ship. I’m not looking forward to marriage. It 
is my work that interests me most. I don’t love 
you as Anne loves David, and Jessica and Nora 
love Eeddy and Hippy. I don’t believe I know 
what love means. I don’t wish to hurt you, but 
I must be perfectly honest with myself and with 
you. I can only say that I care for no one else, 
and that perhaps someday I may care as much 
as you.” 

Grace gazed sorrowfully at Tom as she 
ended. She knew by the tightening of his lips 
and the nervous squaring of his broad shoul- 
ders that she had hurt him sorely. 

“All right, Grace,” he said with brave final- 
ity. “I’ll try to be content with your friend- 
ship and live in the hope of that ‘someday.’ 


72 GRACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


I’m going to be selfish enough to dream that 
their will come a time when even your work 
w-on’t be able to crowd out love.” 

Grace made no reply. She felt that there 
was nothing to be said. The bare idea that 
there might come a time when her beloved work 
would fail to fill her life was not to be consid- 
ered, even for a moment. Love was a vague, 
far-distant possibility. It might come to her, 
and again it might not. But her work — that 
lay directly before her. The glory of life was 
not love, but achievement. Her eyes grew rapt 
with purpose, and, as Tom wistfully scanned 
her changeful face, it fell upon him with a sud- 
den sinldng of the heart that for him the 
longed-for someday” might never come. 


CHAPTER VII 

THE RETUKH OF EMMA DEAN 

‘‘‘4 HORSE, a horse, my kingdom for a 
horse!’ ” chanted a voice in Grace 
Harlowe’s ear. 

Grace whirled about, almost dropping the 
suit case and golf bag she carried. 

‘^Why, Emma, Emma Dean!^^ she exclaimed, 
her voice rising high in astonishment. 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


73 


‘^Yes, it^s Emma, Emma Dean,’’ returned 
Emma humorously. ‘Mt is I, me, myself and 
all the other personally personal pronouns that 
stand for your old friend, Emily Elizabeth 
Dean.’^ 

‘‘YTierever did you come from and — oh, 
Emma’’ — as the tall thin young woman pointed 
significantly to two heavy suit cases and a small 
leather bag huddled together on the station 
platform — “you aren’t really — are you ” 

“I am,” interrupted Emma cheerfully. “I 
couldn’t stay away. I knew you’d need a com- 
forter this year, so I applied for the position 
and you can see for yourself how successful I 
was. Professor Morton was so grateful to me 
for applying that he said with tears in his eyes, 
‘Emma, I can’t tell you how happy it makes 


“Emma Dean, stop talking nonsense and tell 
me how you really happened to be here. It’s 
too good to be true. ’ ’ Grace beamed fondly on 
her tall, humorous classmate who had been a 
never-failing source of amusement to the 
Wayne Hall girls. 

“Since you are determined to have facts, 
here goes. I’ve come back to Overton, the land 
of the dig and the home of the sage, to show 
wEat four years of unremittent toil have done 
for me. I am to be a living testimonial, one of 


74 GEACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


the ‘after taking the prescribed course I can 
cheerfully recommend, etc.,’ kind. Briefly and 
explicitly, I dropped off that train from the 
south that came in just before your train, and 
I’m going to be Miss Duncan’s assistant in 
English.” 

“You aren’t really!” Grace’s eyes were 
dancing. “How splendid! Why I didn’t know 
you intended to teach.” 

“Neither did I,” returned Emma, a shadow 
flitting across her face, “until I went home last 
June and found that things hadn’t been going 
as smoothly as they might. Mother and Father 
never gave me the slightest inkling last year 
that money wasn’t plentiful in the Dean fam- 
ily. Dear, unselfish things! They wanted my 
college life to end in a blaze of glory. You see. 
Father had put most of his little capital into a 
real estate boom that didn’t boom, and it left 
him with a lot of vacant lots on his hands that 
no one, not even himself, wanted. A trolley 
line was to pass through the section he owned 
and it changed its mind, or rather the directors 
changed theirs, and straggled off in another di- 
rection. So, unless it straggles back again and 
Father gets rid of his incubus, which isn’t at all 
likely, the eldest daughter of the noble house of 
Dean will have to hustle indefinitely for her 
board and keep. 



75 



t 



TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


77 


‘ ‘ To go back a little, as soon as I noticed how 
worried Father looked, and after I surprised 
Mother crying one day, I made them tell me all 
about it. I wrote straight to Professor Morton. 
He helped me secure the position of assistant 
in English, and here I am. I haven’t the least 
idea where I’m going to live either. I’d love 
to go back to Wayne Hall, but I’m afraid I 
couldn’t preserve a proper attitude of dignity 
there. You know my failings. Beverly Place 
is a house given over to teachers. I thought 
I’d try there first. I hope it won’t be too ex- 
pensive. I expect to send some money home 
this year.” 

Grace had listened attentively to Emma’s re- 
cital. What a splendid girl Emma was! She 
had not tried to dodge Life and his inseparable 
comrades. Trouble and Hard Work. Instead, 
she had walked out courageously, fearlessly, to 
meet them mth smiling lips and a merry heart. 
Grace was already enlivened by the prospect 
of having this free-hearted, jolly classmate 
with her during the college year now open- 
ing. 

‘‘How I wish you could live near me, 
Emma,” she said longingly. Then she stared 
at her friend with wide-open eyes, the expres- 
sion of which betokened the birth of an amaz- 
ing idea. “Why — you can,” she declared. 


78 GEACE HAELOWE’S EETUEN 


‘‘IVe just thought of the nicest way. Will you 
come, Emma I Will youT^ 

“It depends on the exact spot where the 
pleasure of my company is requested,’’ re- 
turned Enrnia waggishly. “If it is to Kampt- 
chatka — ^no, most decidedly. I have no insane 
craving for life among the heathen, and that 
‘no’ includes the Malay Archipelago and dark- 
est Africa. It’s too cold in Greenland and I 
couldn’t countenance terrible Thibet, but if its 
any place nearer home, say Hunter’s Eock or 
Vinton’s, I’ll he delighted.” 

Grace laughed happily. “It’s a place you 
haven’t guessed or thought of,” she replied. 
“I want you to come to Harlowe House and 
room with me, Emma. I’m going to have lots 
of room, a whole suite. There’s a sitting-room, 
a bedroom and a bath. I need some one to help 
me and I’d rather have you than any one else 
I know. Won’t you say ‘yes’? Please, please, 
do.” 

Emma regarded Grace with a look of one who 
could not believe the evidence of her own ears. 
“Oh — I couldn’t — it wouldn’t be right to im- 
pose upon you. I’d love to, but ” 

“Wait until you see Harlowe House before 
you make up your mind not to live there,” in- 
terposed Grace slyly. “We’ll call a taxicab 
and go over to it at once. I have my own key. 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


79 


so we can leave onr luggage and go to Vinton 
or any other place we wish for luncheon. 
You can spend the night at Harlowe House. 
We won’t be alone there, for the cook and both 
maids are supposed to arrive to-day. After 
you have enjoyed a few hours of my beneficent 
society you may refuse to be torn from me 
and my sheltering home,” she ended banter- 
ingly. 

haven’t the least doubt of it,” averred 
Emma in a perfectly serious tone. ‘^That’s 
why I feel as though I ought to decide now 
while I am in my most heroic mood. I never 
dreamed of any such wonderful good for- 
tune. Honestly, Grace, I don’t know what to 
say.’^ 

‘ ‘ Say ^ yes, ’ ” advocated Grace. ^ ‘ You ought 
to be willing to come if I am willing to have 
you. If it will make you feel more independent, 
you may pay for your meals. I’ll see that you 
are not overcharged, but as far as the room is 
concerned you are welcome to it. Oh, Emma, 
think how delightful it will be for us! I say 
‘will’ because you simply can’t find yourself 
hard-hearted enough to refuse. I’m not obliged 
to consult a soul about my plans. Mrs. Gray 
gave me full permission to do as I think best. 
I have no set expense limit. I am to be pru- 
dent and economical, of course; that’s part of 


80 GEACE HAELOWE’S EETUEN 


my trust. After this year there will be an ex- 
pense limit. We shall know by next June just 
what it costs for the up-keep of a house like 
Harlowe House. This year, however, we are 
bound to do more or less experimenting.’’ 

Grace gazed pleadingly at Enuna, who stood 
in the middle of the station platform, her heavy 
eyebrows drawn together in deep thought. 

‘‘I’m going for that taxicab,” said Grace, as 
Emma still remained silent. “There’s one 
coming into the station yard now.” She sig- 
naled to the driver, who drew up directly in 
front of where they were standing, then sprang 
out and began loading the girls’ luggage in the 
car. 

“Come on, Emma,” coaxed Grace. “You 
can finish making up your mind on the way to 
Harlowe House.” 

Emma turned to her friend with a face full 
of affectionate gratitude. “I’m going to ac- 
cept your offer, Grace,” she declared. “In 
fact, I can’t resist it. I am sure you want me 
to come and I don’t know of any other place 
where I’d rather be. I can’t begin to tell you 
how much it means to me, and in so many dif- 
ferent ways. Are you sure there won’t come a 
time when you’ll think, ‘Oh, if only I had never 
asked that noisy, nervous, nosing, messy, med- 
dlesome, moping, miserable, growling, grum- 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


81 


bling, grouchy, greedy, galloping, galumphing 
Emma Dean to room with me U ’ ’ 

‘‘I don’t know any such person,” denied 
Grace, laughing merrily at Emma’s remarkable 
self-arraignment. ‘^It sounds more like a The- 
saurus than a category of your failings, Emma. 
Come along. We mustn ’t keep this man waiting.” 

Emma dutifully climbed into the automobile. 
‘‘One never knows what will happen next,” she 
remarked naively as they seated themselves in 
the car. “I feel as Cinderella must have felt 
when she was suddenly whisked off to the ball 
by her fairy godmother. By the way, Grace, 
how is Mrs. Gray, the fairy godmother of Har- 
lowe House?” 

“I’ve been so busy coaxing you to come and 
live with me, I forgot to tell you that she and I 
were down here in August, and who do you 
suppose we had' as a visitor?” 

“Arline Thayer?” asked Emma. 

“No; but that wasn’t a bad guess. J. El- 
freda was with us.” 

“Bless her!” Emma’s exclamation told 
plainly of her affection for the one-time stout 
girl. “Was she as funny as ever?” 

“Every bit. She kept Mrs. Gray and I in a 
perpetual state of laughter. She’s going to 
study law in New York City, and she’s prom- 
ised to come to Overton for Thanksgiving. Ar» 

6 — Grace Harlowe’s Return to Overton Campus. 


82 GEACE HAELOWE^S EETUEN 


line Thayer and Mabel Ashe are coming too. 
We’ll have a great celebration.” 

‘‘I’m certainly glad I ’m here, ’ ’ sighed Emma 
contentedly. “There seems to be a prospect of 
one continnons ronnd of pleasure. ’ ’ 

“I’m glad you are here too,” nodded Grace. 
“You don’t know how queerly I felt to-day 
when I stepped off the train without seeing 
a soul I knew. I suppose there are a number 
of girls here, although it’s early. Classes won’t 
be called for at least a week or more. AYe’ll 
surely see some familiar spirits soon. There 
are Patience Eliot, Kathleen West, Laura At- 
kins, Mildred Evans, Violet Darby, Myra Stone 
and ever so many others still due in the land of 
'Overton.” 

“MGiy, that’s so,” declared Emma, her eyes 
bright with the prospect of seeing her Overton 
friends. “Do you know, Grace, I’m ashamed 
to say I hadn’t really considered those girls. 
All along I’ve thought about the Sempers and 
how strange and gray everything would seem 
without them.” 

“I know it,” sighed Grace. “I’ve felt exactly 
the same. Anne, Miriam, Arline, Euth, El- 
freda and you were my absent crushes, but now 
you are a present one, and next to you comes 
Patience Eliot. She always seemed like a 
senior. I think I’m going to love the new Kath- 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


83 


leen West dearly. She is so clever, and now 
that we are friends I hope we can work to- 
gether in ever so many ways. ’ ^ 

As the taxicab bore them swiftly toward Har- 
lowe House the two young women talked on of 
the happy past with its pleasure-marked mile- 
stones. 

‘‘We’re almost there. Look, Emma! You 
can get a splendid view of all the campus 
houses. Now isn’t Harlowe House the prettiest 
of them all?” 

“It is, I swear it,” returned Emma solemnly, 
“and, if I’m not mistaken, one of your house- 
hold has arrived ahead of you. Certainly some 
one is camping out on the front steps.” 

“Why, so there is. I wonder who she can be. 
One of the maids, I suppose, or perhaps the 
cook. We’ll know who she is in a minute.” 

The car had now come to a full stop. With- 
out waiting for the chauffeur Grace opened the 
door and sprang out. “Never mind our lug- 
gage,” she said as she paid the driver. “We’ll 
carry it into the house. It’s not very heavy.” 

Gathering her belongings in one hand, and 
picking up one of Emma’s suit cases, Grace set 
off up the stone walk followed by Emma. As 
she advanced there rose from the steps and 
came to meet her a most astonishing little 
figure. 


84 GEACE HAELOWE’S EETUEN 


CHAPTEE VIII 

A STRANGE APPLICANT 

I ^HIS is Harlowe House, isn’t it?” was the 
I sharp question that assailed Grace’s 
ears. 

‘‘Yes.” Grace’s eyes traveled in amazement 
over the curious little stranger within her 
gates. She was a girl of perhaps eighteen, al- 
though there was a strained, anxious expres- 
sion in her large brown eyes that made her look 
positively aged, an effect which the three deep 
lines in her high projecting forehead served to 
emphasize. If she possessed hair it was not 
visible under the small round hat of a by-gone 
style which set down upon her head like a hel- 
met. She wore a plain, cheap black skirt and a 
queer, old-fashioned white blouse made with a 
peplum. Around her waist was a leather belt, 
and on her feet were coarse heavy shoes such as 
a farm laborer might wear. In one hand she 
carried a large bundle, in a newspaper wrap- 
ping. 

“ I ’m so glad. I thought I ’d never get here, ’ ’ 
she said simply. 

Grace and Emma exchanged amazed glances. 
This must be the maid. But such a maid ! 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


85 


‘‘Are you the young woman Mrs. Elwood en- 
gaged?’^ asked Grace politely. 

The girl shook her head. “I don’t know 
what you mean. No one engaged me. I just 
came because I heard about Harlowe House 
and wanted to go to college. I’ve passed all my 
high school examinations and I’ve a scholar- 
ship too. They wouldn’t let me come, so I ran 
away from home and walked all the way here. 
Is it true that a girl can live at Harlowe House 
without having to pay her board?” she eyed 
Grace with a look of mingled anxiety and defi- 
ance. 

“Oh,” Grace’s amazed look changed to one 
of interested concern, “pardon me. I thought 
you were a young woman of whom Mrs. El- 
wood, of Wayne Hall, had spoken.” 

“I don’t know Mrs. Elwood. I never heard 
of Wayne Hall. I don’t know a soul in this 
town. I only know that I want to go to Overton 
College more than I ever wanted anything else 
in my life. Ho you suppose there’s a chance 
for me to live at Harlowe House and study? 
I’ve walked over a hundred miles to find out,” 
finished the queer little stranger pleadingly. 

‘ ‘ ‘ Over a hundred miles ! ’ ” repeated Grace 
and Emma in chorus. 

The girl nodded solemnly. 

“You poor child!” exclaimed Emma Dean 


86 GEACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


impulsively. “If your wish to be an Overton 
girl brought you that distance on foot, I should 
say you ought to have all the chance there is. 
At any rate you have applied to the proper au- 
thority. This is Miss Harlowe, for whom Har- 
lowe House was named, and who is to be in 
charge of it. I am Miss Dean, of 19 — and now 
assistant in English at Overton.’’ 

But the knowledge that she was face to face 
with the person who held the privilege of being 
a member of Harlowe House in her hands over- 
came the quaint stranger with a sudden shy- 
ness. She shifted her weight uneasily from one 
foot to the other, twisted her thin, bony hands 
nervously, while her forehead was corrugated 
afresh with deep wrinkles. 

With the frank, winning smile which was one 
of Grace’s chief charms, she held out her 
hand to the other girl. “I am glad to know 
you,” she said. “Won’t you tell me your 
name ? ’ ’ 

“Mary Reynolds,” returned the newcomer 
in a low voice, as she timidly shook Grace’s 
proffered hand, then Emma’s. 

“I shall be glad to welcome you to Harlowe 
House,” said Grace cordially, “provided you 
can fulfill the requirements necessary for enter- 
ing Overton. I am going over to Miss Wilder’s 
office this afternoon, and if you wish to go with 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


87 


me you can learn all the particulars. Until 
then, however, you had better come into the 
house with Miss Dean and me. I am sure you 
must be very tired. ’ ’ 

‘^Yes, I am, but I don’t mind that. I’m here 
and nothing else matters, ’ ’ returned the girl so 
fervently that Grace felt a sudden mist rise to 
her eyes, and she determined, then and there, 
that if this curious, destitute little stranger suc- 
ceeded in measuring up to Overton’s mental re- 
quirements, she would smooth in every possible 
way her path, which she foresaw would be 
troubled. 

‘‘And now for our triumphal entry into Har- 
lowe House,” declaimed Emma Dean, as she 
and Grace picked up their luggage, and, fol- 
lowed by Mary Reynolds and her huge news- 
paper-wrapped bundle, mounted the steps. At 
the door Grace again set down her luggage. 
Fumbling for her latch key she fitted it to the 
lock. 

“What a perfectly delightful place!” was 
Emma’s enthusiastic cry, as she stepped into 
the hall which was done in oak with furnish- 
ings to match. “Commend me to the living- 
room!” She poked her head inquisitively 
through the soft green silk hangings and after 
surveying the pretty room for an instant made 
a dive for the ^vindow seat. “Oh, you window 


88 GRACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


seat!^’ she laughed with a fine disregard for 
dignity. 

Grace laughed with her, and queer little 
Mary Re^uiolds smiled in sheer sympathy with 
Emma’s irresistible drollery. 

‘‘I choose this green window seat for my 
boon companion,” declared Emma, curling her 
wiry length cosily upon it, ‘ ‘ and may I be ever 
faithful to my vows. I expect to have difficulty 
in protecting my claim, for I predict this will 
be the most popular spot in the house. May I 
put up a sign, Grace. ‘ This claim is staked by 
Emma Dean, no others need apply’!” 

‘‘You may stake it, but I won’t guarantee 
that it will stay staked,” replied Grace. 

“Oh, yes, it will,” argued Emma confidently, 
bouncing up and down on the soft springy 
cushions. “The freshmen of Harlowe House 
will be so impressed with my height, dignity 
and general appearance that they will defer to 
me as a matter of course. One imperious look, 
like this, over my glasses, and the world will be 
mine.” She peered over her glasses at Grace 
in a ludicrous fashion which was far more 
likely to convulse, rather than impress, the 
prospective freshmen. 

Even the solemn stranger giggled outright, 
then looked as though she had been caught red- 
handed in some dreadful, crime. 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


89 


‘‘I’d like to recite English in one of your 
classes, Emma,” smiled Grace. 

“Now there is' jnst where you are wrong,” 
retorted Emma. “I shan’t have a single amus- 
ing feature in my daily round of recitations. I 
shall be as grim as grim can be and a regular 
slave driver as far as lessons are concerned. 
Those freshmen will wish they’d never met 
me. ’ ’ Emma wagged her head threateningly. 

“Stop making such dire threats and come 
upstairs to see our quarters,” commanded 
Grace. 

Emma uncoiled herself from the window seat 
with alacrity and began gathering up her be- 
longings. 

Grace turned kindly to Mary Eeynolds. “If 
you will come upstairs with us. Miss Eeynolds, 
I think we can easily find a room for you. So 
far I do not know just how many applications 
Miss Wilder has received. As I told you, I am 
going over to the office after luncheon. You 
had better go to your room and rest a little, 
then take luncheon with Miss Dean and me and 
go with us to Overton Hall to see Miss Wilder, 
the dean.” 

“I — I — thank you,” stammered the girl, the 
dull color flooding her sunburnt cheeks. “I’m 
afraid — I — can’t go to luncheon — with you. I’m 
— ^not — very hungry. ’ ’ 


90 GEACE HAELOWE’S EETUEN 


Emma Dean flashed a quick, appraising 
glance at her from under her eyelashes. 
“Neither are we,’’ she assured the embarrassed 
girl, “but still we don’t care to miss luncheon 
entirely. You are a stranger in a strange land, 
so you must be our guest, and then some day 
when you are a seasoned Overtonite we’ll in- 
sist on being yours. ’ ’ 

Mary Eeynolds regarded the two young 
women with shy, grateful eyes. “You are so 
good to me. You must know, of course, that I 
am very poor. I have nothing in the world but 
this bundle of clothes and ten dollars, ’ ’ she said 
humbly. “It took me two years to save it. I 
have been so sure that there would be some 
little corner of this wonderful house for me. I 
can’t bear to think that I may be too late. I 
don’t know where I’d go. I guess I’d have 
to try to find some place else. Do you sup- 
pose I am too late?” Her tones 'vibrated with 
alarm. 

“Of course you aren’t,” soothed Ennna 
Dean. “I’m always late, but, as I used to tell 
Miss Harlowe, I am hardly ever too late. You 
may be almost the first girl to apply, or you 
may be among the latest, but not the too latest. 
There, isn’t that encouraging? The best thing 
for you to do is to have an early luncheon and 
a long sleep. Suppose we go down to Vinton’s, 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


91 


Grace, as soon as we get the fond souvenirs of 
the railroad off our faces. Then 1 11 come back 
here with Miss Eeynolds and you can go on to 
Overton to see Miss Wilder. My business with 
her will keep until to-morrow. This little girl 
is too tired for interviews to-day.’^ 

‘‘I think that’s dear in you, Emma, and real 
wisdom too. Now let’s go upstairs, at once.” 
Grace led the way and the trio ascended to the 
second story. 

‘‘I’m going to put you in this room for the 
present. Miss Eeynolds,” said Grace. She 
paused before a door that faced the head of 
the stairs and threw it open. It was a pretty 
room, papered in dainty blue and white, with a 
blue and white floor rug and white enameled 
furniture. There were crisp, white dotted- 
swiss curtains at the windows and a sheer blue 
and white ruffled cover on the dressing table, 
while on the walls hung several neatly-framed 
water color and pen and ink sketches. 

The shabby, tired girl gave a long sigh of 
satisfaction and weariness as she stood in the 
middle of the floor, her eyes eagerly devouring 
the pretty room. 

“The bathroom is at the end of the hall,” 
said Grace gently. “We’ll stop for you in 
about half an hour.” 

The other girl did not answer, and Grace and 


92 GEACE HAELOWE’S EETUEN 


Emma slipped away, leaving her to get used to 
her new surroundings. 

‘‘Well, did you ever?’’ asked Emma, the mo- 
ment they were inside Grace’s sitting-room 
with the door closed. 

Grace shook her head. “Poor little thing,” 
she murmured. “She can’t possibly go about 
Overton in those clothes, Emma. Yet I 
can’t offer her any of mine. She seems inde- 
pendent. I am afraid she would resent it. I 
wonder what her story is. Did you notice she 
said that ‘they’ wouldn’t let her go to college, 
so she had run away from home? Suppose 
some one of her family should follow her here 
just after we had nicely established her at Har- 
lowe House? We must find out everything 
about her. I won’t bother her with questions 
while she is so tired.” 

“I am sure she is eighteen,” declared Emma 
positively. “That vdll free her from parental 
sway in this state. I think it would be a 
greater tragedy if she has come too late. What 
is the highest number of girls Harlowe House 
will accommodate ? ” 

“Thirty-two,” answered Grace. 

‘ ‘ Then let us hope that Mary Eeynolds is not 
unlucky thirty-three. The sooner you go to see 
Miss Wilder the sooner you’ll know her fate. 
Now I’m going on a tour of exploration and 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


93 


noisy admiration. I^m sure I haven T ohs and 
alls enough to fully express my feeling of ele- 
vated pleasure at so much magnificence. And 
to thing that I, ordinary, every-day me, should 
be asked to become co-partner to all this.^’ 
Emma struck an attitude and launched forth 
into fresh extravagances over the tastefully 
furnished suite of rooms. 

^‘Emma, you ridiculous creature, wind up 
your lecture and get ready for luncheon,^’ com- 
manded Grace affectionately. 

‘^Not until IVe seen the last saw,’’ returned 
Emma firmly. 

For the next ten minutes she prowled and 
peered, examined and admired, to her heart’s 
content. ‘‘Now I’ve seen everything,” she 
averred, at last, with calm satisfaction, “and 
I’m twice as hungry as I was. But I can’t 
leave oif thinking what a lucky person Emma 
Dean is to have all this grandeur and Grace 
Harlowe thrown in.” 

“And I can’t help thinking what a lucky 
person Grace Harlowe is to have Emma Dean.” 

“Then we’re a mutual admiration society,” 
finished Emma, “and there’s no telling where 
we’ll leave off.” 

“If I didn’t have to go on to Overton Hall I 
wouldn’t wear a hat,” sighed Grace, half an 
hour later, reaching reluctantly for her hat. 


94 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


She and Emma had bathed their faces, rear- 
ranged their hair, and put on fresh lingerie 
blouses with their tailored suits. ‘^Are you 
ready, Emma? I wonder if Miss Reynolds is. 
Idl stop and see.’’ 

Grace knocked lightly on the newcomer’s 
door. It was opened immediately. 

‘ ‘ Are you ready, Miss Reynolds ? ’ ’ she asked, 
her alert eyes noting that the offending peplum 
had been tucked inside the black skirt, and that 
Mary Reynolds with her hat off was a vast im- 
provement on Mary Reynolds with her hat on. 
She also observed that the girl’s hair, though 
drawn uncompromisingly back from her fore- 
head, showed a decided tendency to curl. With 
her usual impulsiveness she exclaimed, ‘‘Oh, 
you have naturally curly hair, haven’t you? 
It ’s such a pretty shade of brown. Do let me do it 
for you. It ’s a pity not to make the most of it. ’ ’ 

The girl regarded her with grave surprise. 
“Are you making fun of me?” she asked seri- 
ously. 

“ ‘Making fun of you,’ ” repeated Grace. “I 
should say not. I think you have beautiful 
hair. Why, what is it. Miss Reynolds ? ’ ’ For, 
with a queer, choking cry, the odd little 
stranger threw herself face downward on the 
bed and sobbed disconsolately. 

Grace stood silent, watching the sob-wracked 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


95 


figure with puzzled, sympathetic eyes. Emma 
appeared in the doorway, her eyebrows ele- 
vated in astonishment. Grace motioned for her 
to come in. The girl on the bed wept on, while 
the two young women waited patiently for her 
sobs to cease. 

Suddenly she sat up with a jerk, and dashed 
her hand across her eyes. ^^I^m sorry — — was 
so — so — silly,’’ she faltered, ^‘but I couldn’t 
help it. No one ever told me that I was any- 
thing but plain and ugly before. ’ ’ 

‘‘You poor little thing,” sympathized Emma. 

Grace sat down on the bed beside Mary and 
put her arm across the thin shoulders. “Cheer 
up,” she said brightly. “I am sure you are go- 
ing to be happy at Overton. You feel blue just 
now because you are tired and hungry. Let me 
fix your hair and we’ll hurry to Vinton’s as 
fast as ever we can. I ’m simply starved. ’ ’ 

Mary Reynolds obediently sat on the chair 
Grace placed for her and the hair dressing 
began. Grace and Emma both exclaimed in ad- 
miration as Grace unbraided the soft-golden 
brovm hair, which, once free, broke into waves 
and curls. 

“Did you ever see a prettier head of hair?” 
exclaimed Emma. 

“I think it would look best combed low over 
her forehead, don’t you?” asked Grace. 


96 GRACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


Emma nodded her approval as Grace, with 
deft fingers, arranged the thick curly locks in a 
strictly smart fashion which completely 
changed Mary Reynolds’ forlorn appearance. 

‘‘Now look in the glass,” directed Grace, 
when she had finished. 

Mary gazed earnestly at her new self. “It 
can’t be me,” she said with a pardonable dis- 
regard of English. 

“But it is,” Grace assured her. “You must 
learn to do your hair like that and wear it so. 
Now let me put a tiny bit of powder on your 
face to scare away the tear stains and we ’ll be 
off.” 

The obnoxious helmetlike hat did not seem 
so unbecoming, now that Mary’s curls peeped 
from under it, and Grace felt a certain degree 
of satisfaction in her efforts to make the new 
girl at least presentable. She decided that 
once her large brown eyes had lost their scared, 
anxious expression and her thin face had 
grown plump, Mary would be really pretty. 

During luncheon at Vinton’s Grace quietly 
studied her charge. There was something 
about Mary that reminded one of Ruth Denton, 
she decided. She and Emma made every ef- 
fort to put the prospective freshman at her 
ease. By common consent they refrained from 
asking any questions likely to produce another 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


97 


flood of tears. As for Mary herself, although 
visibly embarrassed at the ultra-smartness of 
Vinton ^s, the attention of the waiter, and the 
puzzling array of knives, forks and spoons, she 
managed, by watching Grace and Emma, to ac- 
quit herself with credit. Thanks to Emma’s 
never-failing flow of humorous remarks the 
luncheon proved to be a merry meal and be- 
fore it ended the forlorn girl looked almost 
happy. 

‘^I’ll see you later,” said Grace, as they 
paused for a moment in front of Vinton’s. 
‘‘Emma, I leave Miss Eeynolds in your care.” 

“I accept the responsibility,” declared 
Emma, flourishing her parasol in fantastic sa- 
lute. “I’m going to march her home and put 
her to bed.” 

“While I go on to Overton Hall to learn her 
fate,” smiled Grace. “Good-bye. You may 
expect me when you see me.” 

Grace swung across the campus toward Over- 
ton Hall at her usual brisk pace. A few mo- 
ments more and she would be fairly launched in 
her new undertaking. She had no desire to run 
out to meet the future, yet she could not refrain 
from wondering what her first year on the 
campus would bring her. So far it had brought 
her Mary Eeynolds, but somewhere in the 
world there were thirty-one other girls whose 

7 — Grace Marlowe’s Return to Overton Camt>us. 


98 GEACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


faces were set toward Overton and Harlowe 
House. 

A peculiar wave of dismay swept over Grace 
at the thought of actually being responsible for 
the welfare of so many persons. The old say- 
ing concerning the rushing in of fools where 
angels walk warily came involuntarily to her 
mind. Then she laughed and squaring her ca- 
pable shoulders murmured half aloud^ ‘H’m 
neither a fool nor an angel. I’m just Grace 
Harlowe, a ‘mere ordinary human being,’ as 
Hippy would put it. I’m not going to be so 
silly as to expect to get along with a whole 
houseful of girls without some friction. Like 
the gardens Anne and I planted away back in 
our freshman year, there are sure to be a few 
weeds among the flowers.” 


CHAPTER IX 

MARY REYNOLDS MAKES A NEW FRIEND 

fih I AW'ENTY-NINE, thirty, thirty-one and 
I Mary Reynolds makes thirty- two. Isn’t 
it fortunate that there was a place all 
ready for her?” Grace Harlowe looked 
eagerly up from the list of names which she 
had been intently scanning. 


TO OVEKTON CAMPUS 


99 


‘‘Very fortunate/’ smiled Miss Wilder. “I 
am quite cnrions to see your protege, Miss Har- 
lowe.” 

Miss Wilder, the dean of Overton College, 
had been genuinely glad to welcome Grace Har- 
lowe back to the college fold. During Grace’s 
four years as a student at Overton she had 
greatly endeared herself to the dignified, but 
kindly, dean, who had watched her pass from 
honor to honor with the same sympathetic in- 
terest which Miss Thompson, the principal of 
Oakdale High School had ever exhibited in 
Grace’s progress. 

It was now almost four o’clock in the after- 
noon. Grace had spent a busy two hours in 
Miss Wilder’s office going over the applications 
for admittance to Harlowe House and discuss- 
ing ways and means with her superior. 

“Do you know. Miss Wilder, that one of the 
very nicest things about you is your interest in 
one’s friends and plans?” Grace regarded the 
older woman with sparkling eyes. “Away back 
in my freshman days I can remember that I 
never came to you with anything, but that you 
were interested and sympathetic.” 

“My dear child!” Miss Wilder put up a 
protesting hand. 

“It’s perfectly true,” persisted Grace 
staunchly. “I am sure I could never have 


100 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


planned everything so beantifnlly for Harlowe 
House if you hadn’t helped me.” 

‘‘But I had such a wonderful source of in- 
spiration,” reminded Miss Wilder, turning the 
tide of approbation in Grace’s direction. 

“I wish I could agree with you,” laughed 
Grace, her color rising. Then her face grew 
earnest. “It would make me very happy if I 
thought that, as the head of Harlowe House, I 
could inspire my girls to love Overton as deeply 
and truly as I do. I don’t intend to preach to 
them or to moralize, but I do wish them to gain 
real college spirit. If they strive to cultivate 
that, it will mean more to them than all the 
talks and lectures one could give them. Don’t 
you think so?” 

“I do, indeed,” agreed Miss Wilder warmly. 

“Of course,” went on Grace thoughtfully, 
“there is the possibility that some of these 
girls may fail in their entrance examinations. 
Undoubtedly they will have to take them, for 
no girl who applies for admission to Harlowe 
House mil have come from a preparatory 
school. Naturally, they will all be high school 
graduates. Some of them will have scholar- 
ships and some will not. It is going to be more 
or less of a struggle for those who have none 
to earn their college fees — that is, if they 
haven’t saved the money for them beforehand. 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


101 


I am reasonably certain that poor little Mary 
Reynolds hasnT a penny of her own, other than 
the ten dollars she has saved. But if she passes 
her examinations she can borrow the money for 
her college fees from Semper Fidelis. Then, 
too, there is the subject of rules and regulations 
to be considered.’’ 

‘‘A very important subject,” interposed 
Miss Wilder. ‘‘The success of Harlowe 
House will depend upon its rules and their ab- 
solute enforcement.” 

“Don’t you think it would be a nice idea to 
draw up a little constitution and by-laws as 
they do in clubs. It would not cost very much 
to have a certain number of copies of them 
printed, and a copy placed in each girl’s room. 
Oh, Miss Wilder, wouldn’t it be splendid if we 
could form the girls of Harlowe House into a 
social club. It would bring them in touch 
with one another, teach them to be self-govern- 
ing, and do an endless amount of good. ’ ’ Grace 
finished with sudden inspiration. 

For a moment Miss Wilder did not answer. 
She was evidently turning the matter over in 
her own mind. “It is rather an unusual idea,” 
she said slowly, “but I should not be surprised 
to see it work out well. Among a number of 
young women who, aside from the advantages 
Harlowe House offers them, are practically de- 


102 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


pendent npon their own resources you are sure 
to find a variety of dispositions, some of them 
a little warped from their struggle with pov- 
erty. I should say that they could be reached 
and understood better by becoming members 
of this club, which you propose, than by any 
other method. Yes, decidedly, it is a good 
plan.’^ 

Grace remained with the dean until after five 
o’clock talking earnestly of her new work. 
^‘Oh, dear, I can scarcely wait for the next two 
weeks to pass I’m so anxious to begin,” she 
sighed, as she gathered together her gloves, 
handkerchief and parasol and rose to go. 
‘‘Miss Dean will come to see you to-morrow 
morning. Miss Wilder. I’ll send Miss Rey- 
nolds with her.” 

The sun was well advanced on his daily pil- 
grimage down the western sky, and Grace’s 
usually rapid steps lagged as she crossed the 
dear familiar campus. Her eyes strayed lov- 
ingly from the green velvety carpeting under 
her feet to the red and yellow pennants of au- 
tumn which the trees were flaunting so bravely. 
It was hard to say at which season of the year 
Overton campus was most beautiful. To Grace 
it was like some familiar friend who was con- 
stantly surprising her with new and endearing 
virtues. 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


103 


She gazed across the wide stretch of green 
toward Morton House. Two girlish figures 
were seated on the steps apparently deep in 
their own interests. A little farther on she met 
three sophomores, who, recognizing her, bowed 
to her in smiling admiration. Grace stopped 
and held out her hand with the frank cordiality 
which characterized her. After a pleasant ex- 
change of greetings they passed on greatly 
elated over the fact that ^ ‘ that clever Miss Har- 
lowe, who was the most popular girl at Over- 
ton last year,” had remembered them. 

‘‘WeTe beginning to gather home,” she 
murmured softly. She was passing Holland 
House now, and it brought back delightful 
memories of Mabel Ashe. Her glance rested 
wistfully on the front door. She half expected 
to see it open and to see coming toward her 
the lithe, graceful figure of the girl whose 
dainty hands had been the first to grasp hers in 
friendly welcome, when, as an untried fresh- 
man, she had first set foot in the land of Over- 
ton so long ago. Mabel,” she breathed, 
^^dear, dear girl! If ever I come to mean half 
as much to lonely freshmen as you meant to 
me, I shall feel that I have succeeded glori- 
ously. ’ ’ 

Wrapped in recollections of the past, which 
she realized were bound to haunt her at every 


104 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


turn until time and work had banished her 
sense of loss, Grace did not hear the light foot- 
steps of the tall young woman who bore noise- 
lessly down upon her like an avenging fate. 
Suddenly Grace felt two soft, cool hands close 
over her eyes. 

^^Oh!” she gasped. Then she laughed. ‘‘I 
know iUs some one I’m anxious to see. Is it 
Kathleen?” 

The hands did not relax their pressure. 

‘‘Is it Laura Atkins?” guessed Grace again. 

The pressure tightened a little. 

“I know now,” cried Grace. “Why didn’t I 
guess you first of all? It’s Patience.” 

The hands fell away from her eyes. Grace 
wheeled about into a pair of encircling arms. A 
very tall, fair-haired young woman stood look- 
ing dovm on her with a face full of lively atfec- 
tion. “I wonder if you are as glad to see me as 
I am to see you, Grace,” was her first speech. 

“Every bit as glad,” responded Grace with 
emphasis. “Emma and I have been looking 
forward to your coming every day since we 
came. ’ ’ 

“Emma?” interrogated Patience. “Do you 
mean to tell me that Emma Dean is here ? ’ ’ 

“Yes,” replied Grace happily. “She’s come 
back to be Miss Duncan’s assistant. Isn’t that 
splendid?” 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


105 


‘‘IVe been mourning Emma among the rest 
of the bright departed spirits/’ smiled Pa- 
tience, “and thinking of how dull Wayne Hall 
will be this year without her. Emma is Emma, 
you know, and cannot be duplicated, imitated 
nor replaced. I suppose, as a teacher, she’ll 
live in one of the faculty houses, instead of 
Wayne Hall.” 

“She is going to have part of my suite at 
Harlowe House,” said Grace. “But, before I 
say another word, where are you going?” 

“To Overton Hall to see Miss Wilder.” 

“Can’t you put off going until to-morrow 
morning?” asked Grace. 

“Yes, if you and Emma will go with me to 
the six-thirty train to meet Kathleen and then 
to dinner at Vinton’s afterward.” 

^ ^ Will we ? ” cried Grace. ‘ ‘ I should say — ’m 
afraid we can’t. Patience.” Her jubilant tone 
changed to one of disappointment. “I forgot 
all about Mary Reynolds.” 

“"Who is Mary Reynolds and what did I ever 
do to her that causes her to conspire to cheat 
me of the society of my friends?” inquired Pa- 
tience humorously. 

“Not a single thing,” assured Grace bright- 
ening again. “She’s the thirty-second appli- 
cant for admission to Harlowe House, but she’s 
living there as my guest for a few days until 


106 GEACE HAELOWE’S EETUEN 


she finds out whether she ‘belongs/ Suppose 
you walk over there with me. I wish you to see 
the house before the tenants arrive. I’ll tell 
you the strange story of Mary Eeynolds on the 
way over. Emma’s at home, so you can see 
her, too.” 

“All right. I’ll go, provided you and your en- 
tire family, including Mary Eeynolds, escort 
me to the train to meet Kathleen.” 

“Here’s my hand on it,” promised Grace. 

Patience caught it in both of hers. “It’s 
good to be here, Grace,” she said earnestly. 

“It’s good to have you here. Patience,” re- 
turned Grace, in the same earnest tone. 

Patience was met at the door by Emma, who 
had seen their approach from the living-room 
window, and who now pounced upon Patience 
and joyfully escorted her into the living-room. 

“The plot thickens,” declaimed Emma as 
the three paused in the middle of the room. 
“Hurrah for the old guard! Like Macbeth’s 
immortal mtches. I’ll perform my antic round, 
just to show how jubilant I feel.” She exe- 
cuted a few fantastic steps about Patience, then 
paused beside her, one hand on her shoulder. 
“Where did you acquire Patience, Grace?” 

“I acquired this particular kind of Patience 
on the campus just a few moments ago. I have 
never actually acquired the other kind.” 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


107 


‘‘You’re not the only one,” murmured Emma 
significantly. 

“Where is our freshman-to-be?” 

“In her room and fast asleep, I suppose. Al- 
though she wouldn’t admit it, I know she was 
completely tired out. I could see that,” she 
added slyly. 

Patience and Grace smiled in quick recogni- 
tion of J. Elfreda Briggs’ pet phrase. 

“How I wish ‘I could see’ dear old J. El- 
freda. Wouldn’t it be glorious if she were 
suddenly to appear in the flesh,” sighed 
Emma. 

‘ ‘ She was here with Mrs. Gray and I in Au- 
gust, Patience.” Grace went on to relate the 
details of Elfreda ’s visit. “Emma has heard 
all this before. Still, you don ’t mind hearing it 
again, do you, Emma?” 

“I could listen to it forever, and then ask for 
a repetition,” asserted Emma with gallant 
glibness. 

“I won’t be so malicious as to take you at 
your word,” returned Grace. “WTll you tell 
Patience all the news while I run upstairs to 
see Miss Reynolds?” 

“I will,” nodded Emma, “and tell it truth- 
fully and without embellishments. I am not a 
yellow journal. I am a reliable purveyor of 
facts and nothing but facts.” She pounded on 


108 GEACE HAELOWE^S EETUEN 


the library table with her clenched fist to em- 
phasize her words. 

“I believe yon,’’ assured Patience with mock 
solemnity, ‘‘and salute you as a disciple of 
truth.” 

Leaving her friends to exchange confidences, 
Grace ran lightly up the stairs and knocked on 
Mary Eeynolds’ door. Eeceiving no answer, 
she knocked again. 

“She must be asleep,” thought Grace. Then 
she turned the knob and entered the room. 
Surely enough the tired stranger lay on her 
couch bed, tranquil and slumber-wrapped. 
Sleep had smoothed away the lines of care and, 
in repose, her face looked soft and childish. 

“Miss Eeynolds.” 

The girl sat up with a little, startled cry. 
“Oh,” she breathed, in relief. “I was so fright- 
ened. I forgot where I was. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Miss Dean, a friend of ours and I are going 
to the station to meet another friend. We wish 
you to go with us,” invited Grace. “That is, 
unless you prefer to stay here. You will be all 
alone in the house.” 

An expression of alarm showed itself in the 
girl’s eyes. “I’d rather go with you, if you are 
sure I won ’t be in the way. ’ ’ 

“Not in the least. We shall start in a few 
moments.” With a cheerful smile that elicited 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


109 


a faint, answering one from the other girl, 
Grace left the room. She was back in an in- 
stant with something bine thrown over hei^ 
arm. ‘‘Here is a little coat I took ont of my 
trunk especially for you. It is cool enough for 
a coat to-night. This wonT be too long for you. 
lUs only three-quarter length on me.’^ 

“I — I — ’’ stammered Mary, but Grace was 
gone. 

Mary could not help thrilling a little with 
pure pleasure at sight of herself in the pretty 
blue serge coat. “I look just like th^j’’ she 
murmured. “I’m so glad I came. I won’t go 
back either, and no one shall make me.” She 
smoothed and patted her curly hair, then 
putting on her shabby hat went slowly down 
stairs. 

Her momentary awe of Patience vanished 
when she discovered that, in spite of her dig- 
nified bearing, this tall, fair young woman was 
as full of fun as the droll Emma Dean. 

The quartette started for the station with 
Patience and Emma in the lead. Grace walked 
with Mary, talking brightly of Overton to her 
absorbed listener. She had just begun to tell 
Mary of Kathleen West, her clever work as a 
newspaper woman and of how her play had 
won the honor pin, when they arrived at the 
station. 


110 GEACE HAKLOWE’S EETUEN 


‘‘Wait here while I see if the train is on 
time,’^ directed Grace. 

The three young women strolled slowly along 
the platform, pausing at one end of it. 

“The train’s on time,” called Grace as she 
came out of the station and approached them. 
“It’s due in four minutes. Listen ! Didn ’t you 
hear it whistle?” 

A minute later it was visible around the bend 
and bearing dovm on the station with a great 
puffing and whistling. 

“I see her,” announced Emma. “She’s get- 
ting off at the upper end of the train.” 

An alert little figure in a gray coat suit came 
swinging down, the platform, a suit case in each 
hand, her keen, dark eyes scanning every face. 
Suddenly she caught sight of her friends. 
Dropping her luggage she ran forward, both 
hands extended. Grace caught them in hers. 
The two embraced, then Grace passed Kath- 
leen on to Patience. 

“And to think that Emma Dean is to be one 
of us ! ” exclaimed Kathleen. ‘ ‘ Emma, the one 
sure and certain cure ior the blues. I didn’t 
half appreciate you last year.” A swift flush 
rose to her cheeks. “I didn’t appreciate any 
one. I missed knowing Overton’s best, but 
I’m so thankful that part of that best has 
come back again, so that I can really show how 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


111 


much I care/’ she finished, her eyes very 
bright. 

The little company lingered on the platform, 
for there was so much to be said that they were 
loath to move on. So absorbed were they in 
their own affairs they did not observe that a 
tall, raw-boned, roughly dressed man, with a 
gaunt, disagreeable face had been stealthily 
edging nearer the group until within a few feet 
of them. All at once a long bony hand was 
thrust into their midst. The hand landed on 
the shoulder of Mary Kejmolds, swinging her 
almost off her feet. She did not scream, but 
her face grew white and her eyes horror- 
stricken. Then she wrenched desperately to 
free herself from the cruel clutch, gasping, 
‘‘Let — ^me — alone. I — ^won’t — go back — with — 
you. ’ ’ 

“Oh, ye won’t, won’t ye,” growled the hate- 
ful intruder. “We’ll see if ye won’t. Get a 
move on.” He half dragged, half shoved the 
now sobbing Mary along the platform. 

For an instant no one of the astonished girls 
moved or protested. Then a small, lithe figure 
flung itself in front of the brutal fellow, barring 
his progress. ‘ ‘ Take your hands off that girl, ’ ’ 
commanded a tense, authoritative voice. 

As if in recognition of its authority the man’s 
cruel hold on Mary’s slender shoulder relaxed. 


112 GEACE HAELOWE^S EETUEN 


Kathleen West’s black eyes were blazing. With 
a swift forward movement she threw her arm 
protectingly across Mary’s shonlder and drew 
her close. ‘‘Now,” she said, her whole body 
tense with suppressed anger, “touch her if you 
dare.” 

“Ye better git out and mind yer own 
ness or ye’ll wish ye had,” threatenecPHlf^**^’ 
man, his first feeling of fear vanishing. “Yer 
nothin’ but a lot o’ silly girls. You git along,” 
he ordered, fixing his scowling eyes on Mary. 

“This little girl is going to stay with us. It 
is you that had better move on. If you aren’t 
out of sight within the next three minutes I’ll 
have you arrested for annoying us, and it won’t 
be wise for you to come back again either. ’ ’ 

Kathleen’s face, as she stood calmly eyeing 
her disagreeable adversary, was like a study in 
stone. She looked as inexorable and relentless 
as Fate itself, and the bully understood dimly 
that here was a force with which he could not 
reckon. 

“I’m a goin’,” he mumbled sullenly, “but 
I’m a goin’ to git the law on her/’ he pointed to 
Mary, “and make her git back where she be- 
longs.” 

By this time several persons had hurried to 
the scene of the encounter. Kathleen’s sole 
reply to the threat was a contemptuous shrug 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


113 


of her shoulders. ‘‘Come on, girls,’’ she said 
so nonchalantly that the curious ones dropped 
disappointedly away. Not more than four min- 
utes had elapsed from the time the uncouth 
stranger had appeared until he slunk oft. 
Emma, Grace and Patience found their voices 
almost simultaneously. 

“Well, of all things!” exclaimed Emma. 

“I was literally amazed to dumbness,” de- 
clared Patience. 

‘ ‘ So was I for a minute, but Kathleen was so 
completely sure of herself that I knew it was 
better to be silent. She disposed of that ob- 
streperous individual most summarily. Who is 
he. Miss Keynolds ? ’ ’ Grace turned grave eyes 
upon Mary. “We shall have to know all about 
him if we are to help you. ’ ’ 

They were now walking slowly up the street. 

“He’s — my — uncle,” faltered the girl. 
‘ ‘ Mother died last summer just after I finished 
high school, and I had no place to go. He 
wanted me to go out in the country and live on 
his farm. He said I could go to college, but 
after I went to the farm he and his wife made 
me do all the work, and laughed when I spoke 
of going to college. A nice girl I knew had told 
me about Overton and Harlowe House. She 
was in the town of Overton last commencement 
and heard about it. I told them I would go in 

8 — Grace Marlowe’s Return to Overton Campus. 


114 GEACE HAELOWE^S EETUEN 


spite of them, so they locked me in my room, 
but I climbed out the window and into a big 
tree, one of its branches was quite near the win- 
dow, and then slid to the ground/’ 

^‘How old are you. Miss Eeynolds?” asked 
Kathleen West with apparent irrelevance. 

^ ^ I was eighteen last week. ’ ’ 

‘‘Then you needn’t worry about your 
uncle. You are of age and can do as you 
please. ’ ’ 

“Do you mean that he can’t make me leave 
here?” Mary Eeynolds’ eyes were wide with 
surprise and sudden hope. 

“Of course he can’t,” reassured Kathleen. 
“Girls, I’m going to adopt Mary Eeynolds as 
my especial charge and help her tight her 
battles in the Land of College. Mary will you 
let me adopt you?” 

Mary regarded Kathleen with shy admira- 
tion. She thought her the most wonderful per- 
son she had ever known. She was deeply 
grateful to Grace and her two friends for their 
kindness, but Kathleen’s SAvift, efficient action 
on her behalf had completely won her heart. 
“I’d be the happiest girl in the world,” she 
said solemnly. 

The next morning Grace went frankly to Miss 
Wilder with the tragic story of Mary’s struggle 
to obtain an education and the attempt her 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


115 


miserly nncle had made to force her to return 
to the farm. 

‘‘We shall be obliged to look into the mat- 
ter,” declared the dean. “Send Miss Rey- 
nolds to me as soon as possible. I must be very 
sure that she is all she represents herself to be. 
I should not care to have a repetition of the 
station scene later, on the campus, for instance. 
It would hardly add to the dignity of Overton. ’ ’ 

“I’ll bring her to your office to-morrow 
morning,” said Grace, “then you can form your 
ovm opinion of her.” 

Mary Reynolds’ wistful face was the last 
touch needed to completely enlist Miss Wilder’s 
sympathy in her behalf. On the strength of the 
straightforward story which she repeated to 
the dean, she was allowed to proceed with her 
examinations. Meantime Miss Wilder wrote to 
the authorities of the little tovm near which 
Mary’s uncle’s farm was situated. They con- 
ducted a prompt investigation and by the time 
the hitherto friendless girl had passed tri- 
umphantly through the ordeal of examinations 
the faintest trace of objection to her becoming 
a student at Overton had been removed. 


116 GEACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


CHAPTER X 

THE THIRTY-THIRD GIRL 

“X AM sorry/’ said Grace gently, ‘‘but I am 
I afraid it will be impossible for me to do 
anything for your sister this year. Har- 
lowe House will hold, comfortably, thirty-two 
girls and no more. It isn’t so much a matter 
of meals. They could, perhaps, be arranged, but 
I haven’t a room for your sister. Could she af- 
ford to rent a room in town and come here for 
her meals?” This was an afterthought on 
Grace’s part, born of the desire to clear away 
the cruel shadow of disappointment that 
clouded the pale face of the woman Vvdio sat 
opposite her in her little office. 

— am — afraid not,” faltered the pale, thin 
woman, her tired eyes filling with an ex- 
pression of resignation. thought I might 
be able to manage her college fees, if her living 
expenses could be arranged. We were so sorry 
that she did not Avin a scholarship. You are 
quite sure that there is no chance for her 
here?” she asked pleadingly, for the fourth 
time. ‘‘She has set her heart on coming to 
Overton. College means so much to a girl, 
and Evel 3 m is so clever. It seems a pity that 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


117 


she must stop with only a high school educa- 
tion.” 

Grace knitted her brows in earnest thought, 
while the pleading voice tallied on. She felt an 
overpowering sympathy, not for the sister who 
wished to come to Overton, but for the sister 
who was now advocating her cause. And even 
as she thought the way in which one more girl 
might partake of the benefits of Harlowe 
House came to her. It was a way of sacrifice ; 
she was not even sure that it could be done. 
Something in the expression of her face, how- 
ever, seemed to inspire the woman opposite her 
with new hope. She leaned forward, with the 
eager question: ‘‘Am I wrong or does your 
face tell me that there is a chance for Evelyn 1 ’ ’ 
For the first time she mentioned her sister ^s 
name. 

“ ‘Evelyn,’ ” repeated Grace half musingly. 
“What a pretty name. Plow old is your sis- 
ter, Miss Ward?” 

“She was eighteen last August.” 

“I can make you no definite promise yet,” re- 
turned Grace slowly. “Could you come to see 
me this afternoon at four o’clock? I shall know 
then whether the plan I have in mind can be 
carried out.” 

“I will come,” promised the woman eagerly, 
her eyes kindling with happy light. “I thank 


118 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


you for your kindness.’’ Her voice trembled 
with gratitude. She rose to go, looking as 
though she would like to say more but could not 
find words in which to express herself. 

‘ ‘ You are quite welcome. I will try very hard 
to place her,” was Grace’s parting assurance. 

After the woman, who had introduced herself 
as Ida Ward, had gone, Grace went slowly up- 
stairs and into her pretty sitting-room. She 
looked long and fixedly at each attractive ap- 
pointment, then she walked on into the bed- 
room, which she and Emma shared, and sur- 
veyed it with the same searching gaze. ‘ ‘ I can ’t 
do it unless Emma is willing,” she murmured. 

dislike asking her after inviting her to share 
my suite. Still, we’ve always been frank with 
each other. I’ll tell her the exact circum- 
stances as soon as she comes home to luncheon, 
and let her decide what we had better do.” 
Having determined upon her course of action 
Grace went downstairs again and was soon 
deep in the laying-out of next week’s menu for 
Harlowe House, a task in- which she had been 
engaged when Miss Ida Ward was announced. 

It was now two weeks since Overton College 
had opened. The thirty-two applicants for 
places in Harlowe House had, without excep- 
tion, passed through the trying ordeal of their 
entrance examinations with varying degrees of 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


119 


success, but not one had actually failed. They 
had come into the house, which was their Open 
Sesame to college, in twos and threes. Few of 
them were pretty, but even the plainest of their 
faces bore the unmistakable stamp of intelli- 
gence that marks the scholar. The half-brood- 
ing, anxious look in young eyes and the 
womanly dignity, prematurely gained through 
hand to hand conflict with poverty, were cer- 
tain indications that the girls of Harlowe 
House were there for earnest work and not for 
play. 

And now a thirty-third girl was knocking at 
the gate for admittance to the Land of College. 
Grace wondered vaguely why Evelyn Ward had 
not come to plead her own cause. The words of 
Ida Ward, thought I might be able to man- 
age her college fees, ^ ^ returned to her with dis- 
quieting force. Then she made a little impa- 
tient gesture. Grace Harlowe, what is the 
matter with you? You are judging poor Eve- 
lyn Ward without giving her an opportunity 
to defend herself. You know nothing whatever 
of the Wards’ affairs. There may be a dozen 
good reasons for Miss Ward’s coming here in 
her sister’s behalf. Don’t be so suspicious. 
Wait until you see Evelyn Ward before you 
judge her.” 

Although Grace did not realize it she was al- 


120 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


ready thinking of Evelyn Ward as a member 
of Harlowe House. There was no fear of re- 
fusal on Emma’s part. Long acquaintance with 
her good-natured, easy-going classmate had 
taught her that Emma was equal to, if not more 
than a match for, almost any emergenccy. 

‘‘Emma would take her belongings and camp 
out in the hall if I asked her to,” smiled Grace 
to herself as she went slowly downstairs to her 
office and, seating herself at her desk, took up 
the writing on which she had been engaged 
when her caller was announced. 

She was still hard at work when the girls be- 
gan to come in for luncheon, one after another, 
and at last she heard Emma’s delightful drawl 
as she exchanged pleasantries with one of the 
freshmen who had opened the door for her. 

“Oh, Emma,” she called, stepping to the 
door of her office, “will you come in here, 
please ? I need you. ’ ’ 

By the time Grace had finished speaking 
Emma was standing in the doorway, peering 
owlishly at her. “Most Gracious Grace,” she 
salaamed, “what is your majesty’s magnificent 
pleasure with your worthless and most despic- 
able dog of a servant?” 

“I don’t know any such person,” laughed 
Grace. Then, her face sobering, she plunged 
into the middle of things with, “What would 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


121 


you say, Emma, if I were to give half of our 
quarters to some one elseU^ 

say that I was lucky to have half of 
the half that’s left,” was Emma’s prompt 
retort. 

‘‘You’re a dear!” cried Grace impulsively. 
“I knew you were true blue. Still, I must tell 
you all about certain things before you decide. 
It’s just this way, Emma.” Grace began with 
Miss Ward’s call and recounted to Emma all 
that had passed between herself and the 
stranger. Emma listened without comment until 
Grace had finished with, “Now tell me Avhat 
you think, Emma. ’ ’ 

“I think it is positively noble in you to be 
mlling to give up one of your rooms,” empha- 
sized Emma. “As far as I am concerned I’m 
not a ‘chooser.’ I’m here because of that same 
saving grace — it’s as much a part of you as 
your name — ^which is reaching out now to put 
one more girl in Overton. What can any 
strictly honorable, four-cornered person say 
except, ‘I’m with you,’ and here’s my hand in 
seal and token of it.” 

“Thank you, Emma,” Grace’s quiet words 
and warm handclasp were eloquent with appre- 
ciation of her friend’s unselfish viewpoint. 
‘ ‘ Suppose we run upstairs for a moment before 
luncheon to look around and decide which of the 


122 GEACE HAELOWE^S EETUEN 


two rooms we can best do without. And, 0, 
Emma, we ^11 have room for a thirty-fourth girl, 
if she happens along. I never thought of that. 
In the face of all that a college education will 
mean to this girl our personal comfort rather 
pales into insignificance. ’ ’ 

^‘Who are we that we should revel in the 
fleshpots of Overton while the stranger knocks 
at our gates!’’ supplemented Emma. ‘‘Now 
which is it to be! Shall we say, ‘good-bye be- 
loved sitting-room, ne’er shall we behold thy 
like again,’ or shall we bid fond adieu to the 
bedroom! I ask but one concession, let us re- 
serve our nice private bathroom. It has a value 
above rubies.” 

“Cf course we’ll keep our bathroom. There 
are three others in the house of which these 
new girls can have the use. As long as the 
bathroom opens into both rooms, I shall bolt the 
door leading into the room we give Miss Ward. 
That may appear a trifle inhospitable on the 
surface, but I wish to keep what is left of our 
apartment as secluded as possible,” ended 
Grace, opening the door into the sitting-room. 
“Now, which shall it be, Emma!” 

Emma prowled contemplatively about the 
suite, her hands in her coat pockets, her glasses 
pushed far over her nose. Finally she paused 
before Grace. Settling her glasses at their 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


123 


proper angle she said earnestly, don’t wish 
to seem selfish, Grace, but really I think you are 
entitled to the sitting-room. It’s larger and 
lighter. It’s more attractive in every way. I 
am not thinking of myself in this matter, I am 
thinking of you. You are the brains and brawm 
of Harlowe House, therefore you must be 
made comfortable if you are to do good work 
here. The other room is easily large enough 
to accommodate two girls. It is larger than 
the rooms we occupied at Wayne Hall.” 

know it.” Grace strolled reflectively 
through the open bathroom door and on into the 
bedroom. When she returned, she had decided. 
‘^You are right, Emma. I don’t believe it 
would be selfish to keep this room. Now how 
shall we furnish it I” 

‘‘Don’t ask me to decide that,” protested 
Emma. “I feel as though I ought to pack my 
belongings and go to one of the faculty houses, 
Grace. It isn’t fair to you for me to stay here 
and be a cumberer of your room.” 

“Emma Dean, if you do!” Grace caught 
Emma by the shoulders and proceeded to shake 
her. 

“Wait! Stop!” implored Ennna. “My 
glasses! And lenses cost money!” 

“Will you stay?” demanded a relentless 
voice. The shaking continued, but gently. 


124 GRACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


‘‘I will. That is, 1^11 have to, or pay the 
oculist. ’ ’ 

Grace’s hands fell from Emma’s shoulders. 

‘‘I didn’t want to pack and go,” confessed 
Emma, ‘‘but I was trying to be as fair to you as 
you are to every one else.” 

“It wouldn’t be one bit fair in you to leave 
me. You promised to see me through, you 
know,” reproached Grace. 

“So I did, and so I will,” declared Emma, 
“I take back all I said. From now on I am as 
much of a fixture here as the kitchen range or 
the window seat.” 

Grace laughed at Emma’s absurd declara- 
tion. “I couldn’t let you go, Emma. You are 
too good a comrade. Now let me think. I’ll 
have my dressing table brought in here, but, in 
order to make a combination sitting and sleep- 
ing room of this, we will have to buy a couch 
bed. The davenport there is a bed too. We’ll 
put it across that corner, and have the couch 
against that ‘wall. We’ll have to keep the 
dressing table. We can’t avoid that. I don’t 
know what to do with my bed. It is three- 
quarter size. I selected it purposely, so that 
I’d have room for two of the girls at a time if 
they dropped in unexpectedly. I don’t like to 
sell it. It matches the set.” 

“Why not leave it in the other room,” sug- 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


125 


gested Emma. ‘Mf girl number thirty-four 
never materializes then Miss Evelyn Ward can 
occupy the whole bed, if she chooses.^’ 

‘ ‘ But suppose we do admit another girl ? ’ ’ 

‘‘Sufficient unto the day, etc.,’’ shrugged 
Emma. “When she appears, then let the com- 
mittee take action.” 

“I’ll buy a smaller dressing table to match 
the bed, if I can, and a chi:ffonier. I can’t quite 
give mine up to this newcomer. There goes the 
luncheon bell. I must hurry downstairs to the 
kitchen to see if everything is all right. ’ ’ 

Grace hastened down the stairs, with her 
friend at her heels. Emma went directly to the 
dining-room and took her place at the table 
laid for two at the lower end of the room. This 
table belonged exclusively to her and Grace. 
The dining-room at Harlowe House had been 
furnished after the fashion of a pretty little 
tea shop at which Grace had often lunched in 
New York. The walls were done in white with 
a faint blue and silver stripe. The ceiling was 
vrhite with a decoration of deep blue corn flow- 
ers. The floor was covered with a thread and 
thrum rug in blue and white, and instead of 
two long tables there were several small ones 
which seated from four to six persons. In the 
middle of each table was a vase of flowers, and 
the effect of the whole room was dainty and 


126 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


homelike. Grace had spent much thought on 
the dining-room. The buffet, serving tables, 
tables and chairs were white, and the silver, 
linen and various other appointments had been 
carefully chosen. 

‘‘I wish the girls to feel that this room is a 
place where they can eat and be merry. It is in 
the dining-room that they will first become ac- 
quainted with one another,’’ Grace had said to 
Mrs. Gray while they were choosing the dining- 
room furniture. ^ ^ I like the idea of having the 
small tables. The girls can talk quietly and 
confidentially, if they choose. Besides it looks 
so cosy and informal.” 

As Grace ate her luncheon that day her eyes 
wandered to the various tables. She was spec- 
ulating as to where she would seat Evelyu 
Ward. Already she thought of her as one of 
her girls. 

At precisely four o’clock the door bell rang 
and the maid ushered Ida Ward into the living- 
room. Her large eyes were wide with anxiety 
and suspense as she sat nervously on the edge 
of her chair, tr^dng to appear composed. She 
tried to answer Grace’s reassuring smile, but 
her anxious eyes belied her wanly-smiling lips. 

have good news for you. Miss Ward,” 
said Grace brightly. have made room for 
your sister. When may I expect her ? ’ ’ 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


127 


Ida Ward^s lips moved, but she made no 
sound. Then, to Grace’s consternation, she cov- 
ered her face with her black-gloved hands and 
began to cry quietly. For an instant Grace sat 
in embarrassed silence. She hardly Imew what 
consolation to offer this poor, pale woman who 
looked as though she carried the burdens of the 
world upon her slender shoulders. Before she 
could think of anything to say. Miss Ward sud- 
denly raised her head, wiped her eyes and said 
quietly, ‘ ‘ Forgive me for crying. I — am a little 
tired. I was rather overcome by the good 
news. ’ ’ 

Suppose we have tea in the living room,” 
was Grace’s kindly suggestion. ^‘What time 
does your train leave I By the way, I don’t 
think I know where you live.” 

‘‘We live in Burton, a little town about two 
hundred miles from here, with a population of 
six thousand people. I am a dressmaker. 
There are only Evelyn and I, and I am fifteen 
years older than she. Mother died when she 
was born. Father died only a year later and I 
have taken care of her all her life. She is very 
beautiful. One of the prettiest girls I have 
ever seen, and so clever.” The plain face 
lighted as she described Evelyn. 

“How she loves her pretty sister,” thought 
Grace. > 


128 GEACE HAELOIYE’S EETUEN 

Over the tea, dainty sandwiches and cakes, 
Ida Ward became quite cheerful. When half 
an hour later she rose to take her leave, she 
looked really happy. “How can I thank you 
for what you have done for Evelyn she asked 
tremulously, her lips quivering. “My little 
sister will be so glad. I am sure she can’t help 
being happy in this beautiful house. ’ ’ 

“Send her to us as soon as you can,” ad- 
vised Grace. ‘ ‘ College has been open for over 
three w^eeks and she will have quite an amount 
of work to make up. This is Monday. May I 
expect her on Thursday?” 

“Yes, she can leave Burton early Thursday 
morning. There is a train which reaches here 
at two o’clock in the afternoon.” 

“Very well. I will send some one to meet 
her,” promised Grace. 

During the next two days Grace and Emma 
accomplished their moving so quietly that no 
one in the house knew of the new member the 
morrow was to bring. When everything had 
been put in place Emma declared cheerily that 
they wmuld never miss the other room. 

At the last moment Grace decided to go in 
person to the train to meet Evelyn. The mem- 
ory of Ida Ward’s white patient face haunted 
her. For her sake her beloved sister should be 
cordially welcomed. Grace felt the deepest 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


129 


respect and sympathy for the older sister. 

‘ ‘ Miss Ward said her sister was very pretty, ’ ’ 
reflected Grace, then she looked a trifle dis- 
mayed. She had received absolutely no other 
description of the girl she was to meet. She 
did not know whether Evelyn Ward was short 
or tall, stout or thin, dark or fair. ‘‘Ifll simply 
have to use my eyes and guess,’’ was her men- 
tal comment, as she walked briskly along the 
station platform just as the train whizzed down 
the track. Her alert eyes scanned the nearest 
car steps where the porter was helping a 
crotchety old man to the platform. Behind him 
came a stout middle-aged woman and two chil- 
dren. Grace scanned the next set of steps. 
Then, far up the platform she saw a tall, slen- 
der, blue-clad figure walking toward her at a 
leisurely pace. The girl carried a small hand- 
bag and a suit case. When she came directly 
opposite Grace she paused, then, after a delib- 
erate survey, walked forward with outstretched 
hand. ‘‘Aren’t you Miss Harlowe?” she asked 
sweetly. “If you are, I am Evelyn Ward.” 


9 — Grace Harlowe’s Return to Overton Campus. 


130 GEACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


CHAPTER XI 

EVELYN WARD, FRESHMAN 

G race found herself looking into one of 
the most perfect faces she had ever 
seen. Evelyn Ward \vas a blonde of the 
purest type. Her thick golden hair lay in shin- 
ing waves under her small, smart blue hat. 
Her eyes were deeply, darkly blue with purple 
depths, while her skin had the sheen and tex- 
ture of pale pink rose leaves. Her small, 
straight nose, softly-curved red mouth and deli- 
cately-arched dark eyebrows added to the ten- 
der beauty of her face. To Grace she came as a 
revelation, and, so far as she could remember, 
she had never seen any other blonde girl who 
approached this one in loveliness. 

‘‘How do you do. Miss Ward? I am glad to 
know you,’^ she said, offering her hand. She 
noticed that the slender hand that Evelyn put 
forth to meet hers was very soft and white. It 
had evidently done no hard work and was in 
sharp contrast to the rough, work-worn hands 
of her sister. 

“I’m sure I am pleased to know you. Miss 
Harlowe, and very thankful to you for arrang-^ 
ing for my coming to Overton. I would have 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


131 


cried my eyes out with disappointment if Ida 
had come home with bad news/’ returned the 
pretty girl in a plaintive tone which impressed 
Grace with a curiously uncomfortable feeling 
that this attractive young woman would have 
done nothing of the sort. There was that inde- 
finable something about her that contradicted, 
flatly, the idea of tears. 

‘‘Your sister was an eloquent pleader, Miss 
Ward. I would have made an even greater ef- 
fort than was necessary to place you, if only 
to please her. I was greatly impressed with 
her unselfishness and nobility of character,” 
Grace made reply. 

An expression of amusement showed itself 
on Evelyn Ward’s face. “Ida is a perfect old 
dear, ’ ’ she agreed lightly. ‘ ‘ She takes life too 
seriously, though. She worries over every 
little thing. Still her very seriousness makes a 
good impression. She has ever so many 
friends; a great many more than I.” She 
shrugged her shoulders, as though to convey 
the fact that the latter state of affairs did not 
trouble her. 

“As your luggage is not heavy, we might 
walk to Harlowe House,” suggested Grace. 
“This glorious fall weather is ideal for walk- 
ing. Let me take your suit case.” 

“With pleasure. It’s altogether too heavy 


132 GRACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


for comfort. Are there no street cars or bnsses 
we can take? I like to walk, but not when I 
have luggage to carry. 

‘‘We can take a car or an automobile bus if 
you like,’’ said Grace courteously, although she 
experienced a vague sense of annoyance at this 
newcomer’s calmly expressed preference. 

“Oh, let’s take the automobile, if it isn’t too 
expensive!” exclaimed Evelyn eagerly. “I 
love to ride in an automobile. Are there any 
girls at Overton who own cars? If there are I 
shall certainly cultivate them. I suppose they 
won’t notice me, though, because I am a fresh- 
man and a poor one at that,” she ended with a 
pout, her fair face taking on almost sullen 
lines. 

Grace shook her head. 

“Being poor doesn’t count at Overton,” she 
said, “I know a girl who lived in a bare, cheer- 
less room in an old house in the suburbs of 
Overton and earned her way by doing mend- 
ing for the students. She worked in a dress- 
maker’s shop during her summer vacations 
too, and yet she was the chum of the richest 
girl in college.” 

“Why didn’t the rich girl help her if she 
thought so much of her?” inquired Evelyn 
rather sarcastically. 

“Because the girl wouldn’t allow her to do 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


133 


so. She was too independent to accept help. 
She did not wish to become obligated to any 
one, not even her dearest friend.’’ 

‘‘Foolish girl,” was Evelyn’s contemptuous 
comment. “If one can’t ask occasional favors 
of one’s friends one might as well have none. 
I am very sure that I would take the goods the 
gods provide without murmuring. These ex- 
treme standards of ethics and honor are all 
very pretty in books, but not at all practical in 
every-day life. ’ ’ 

Grace made no reply. She was lost, for the 
instant, in a maze of disagreeable reflection. 
She was afraid she now understood only too 
well why Ida instead of Evelyn Ward had come 
to see her. In the Ward family the hard tasks 
had apparently been thrust upon the patient 
elder sister, while the younger reaped where 
she had not sown, without a conscientious 
qualm. And it was for this beautiful, selfish 
girl that she and Emma had curtailed their 
comfort. She almost wished she had been firm 
in her first refusal to consider taking another 
girl into Harlowe House. Then a vision of Ida 
Ward’s thin face, lighted by two pleading eyes, 
rose before her. With an inward rebuke for 
her own grudging attitude, Grace squared her 
shoulders and resolved to look for only the best 
in this latest arrival. 


134 GEACE HAELOWE^S EETUEN 


It took but a moment to bail an automobile 
bus which had just run into the station yard, 
and they were soon on their way to Harlowe 
House. Grace pointed out to Evelyn the vari- 
ous interesting features of Overton. They im- 
pressed the latter but little. 

^‘It must be a sleepy old town/^ she com- 
mented, as they passed through the quiet 
streets. She did, however, evince some slight 
interest in Vinton ^s, remarking lightly that she 
supposed she would never have money enough 
to buy a dinner there for herself, let alone ever 
inviting a guest. 

‘‘Do not look at your college life through 
such pessimistic spectacles,’’ advised Grace. 
“You will be sure to be unhappy.” 

Evelyn made a pettish gesture. “You re- 
mind me of my sister, Miss Harlowe. She is 
forever preaching patience and optimism and 
all the other virtues in which I seem to be lack- 
ing.” 

A bright flush rose to Grace’s cheeks at this 
unparalleled rudeness. She cast a quick, curious 
glance at Evelyn, whose eyes were for the sec- 
ond fixed upon the campus which they were 
now nearing, and who appeared to be utterly 
oblivious of her impertinence. 

‘ ‘ This is the campus. ’ ’ Grace decided to over- 
look the pointed remark. “We are justly 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


135 


proud of Overton College and the campus/’ 

“It is really beautiful,” nodded Evelyn, “but 
I’m going to tell you a secret. I’m not the 
least little bit enthusiastic over college. I’d 
rather go to a dramatic school and study for 
the stage. It is Ida who insists upon my going 
to college. Thank goodness, I’m not a dunce. 
It would be dreadful to be forced into college 
and then be too stupid to learn anything, 
wouldn’t it?” 

“It would indeed,” agreed Grace. 

“I suppose my stage aspirations shock you. 
Miss Harlowe,” went on Evelyn, “but I can’t 
help saying what I think.” 

“My dearest woman friend is an actress,” 
returned Grace quietly. 

“Oh, is she really?” Evelyn’s voice rose 
high with excitement. “What is her name? 
Perhaps I’ve heard of her.” 

“Anne Pierson.” 

“I should say I had heard of her. She is 
one of the great stars. She is with Everett 
Southard, isn’t she? I’ve seen their pictures in 
the magazines.” 

“She graduated from Overton last year. We 
were roommates throughout our four years 
here. She is from my home town. ’ ’ 

“Eeally and truly?” demanded Evelyn im- 
pulsively. “That’s the most interesting piece 


136 GEACE HAELOWE^S EETUEN 


of news IVe heard for a long time. Will you 
tell me all about her some time, Miss Har- 
lowe?” 

‘‘With pleasure,’^ returned Grace. “It can 
hardly be to-day, however, for here we are at 
Harlowe House.’’ 

“What a darling house!” praised Evelyn as 
they alighted from the automobile. “I am sure 
I shall like to live in it. ’ ’ 

“I hope that you will be happy here,” re- 
turned Grace kindly. After all it might be bet- 
ter not to take this self-willed young woman too 
seriously. She had, at least, the virtue of 
truthfulness. She was entirely frank in the 
expression of her opinions. She might have 
many other redeeming qualities which would 
quite overbalance the disagreeably self-cen- 
tered side of her character. 

Evelyn gazed about in open approval as they 
ascended the steps of Harlowe House. As they 
passed through the hall she peeped into the liv- 
ing room and exclaimed in admiration of its at- 
tractive appointments. Her voluble apprecia- 
tion of her own room pleased Grace, who real- 
ized that Evelyn’s personality was singularly 
fascinating and that she could be exceedingly 
gracious when she chose. 

“I will leave you now,” said Grace, after a 
little further conversation. “The dinner bell 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


137 


rings at six o’clock. If you need anything, or 
wish to ask any questions, you will find me in 
my office downstairs. It is rather too late in 
the day for you to see the registrar. To-mor- 
row morning will be time enough. You are 
lucky to be exempt from examinations.” 

Grace had hardly established herself in her 
office when Emma Dean came breezily in from 
her work. ‘‘Well, Grade,” was her cheery 
greeting, “has she materialized, and is she as 
pathetic and persistent as Sister Ida!” 

Grace made a little gesture of resignation. 
“Prepare for the surprise of your college 
career, Emma.” 

“Didn’t she come?” demanded Emma. 
“That wouldn’t surprise me. People are for- 
ever promising to arrive on a certain train and 
then strolling in several days later with the^ 
barefaced announcement that the time table had 
been mysteriously changed.” 

“She arrived,” stated Grace. 

“Then wherein lies the surprise?” 

“Emma,” said Grace solemnly, “Evelyn 
Ward is the most beautiful girl I have ever 
seen, and, if I am not mistaken, one of the most 
selfish. She is no more like her sister than I 
am like Dr. Morton, and she is going to re- 
quire more looking after than any other girl 
in Harlowe House.” 


138 GEACE HAELOYvE^S EETUEN 


CHAPTEE Xn 

THE HARLOWE HOUSE CLUB 

I "NHEEE ! Grace Harlowe laid down her 
I pen and scanned the notice she had jnst 
finished writing. ‘‘Idl post this now. 
The girls will see it this morning and again 
when they come in to luncheon. Then they will 
be sure to meet me in the living-room before 
dinner. I hope they will like our plan. ’ ’ 

^ ‘ They ought to like it, ’ ’ replied Emma Dean. 
‘‘It makes them a self-respecting, self-govern- 
ing body. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ That is precisely what I wish them to be, ’ ’ 
responded Grace, in all earnestness. “I be- 
lieve that being members of Semper Fidelis 
was of great benefit to us. Oh, Emma, did I 
tell you that Mr. Eedfield^s gift to Semper 
Fidelis is now an endowment? He called to see 
me on Friday for the express purpose of telling 
me that he has arranged the matter with Pro- 
fessor Morton. The money is to be known 
hereafter as the Semper Fidelis endowment. 
He said he felt certain that we had not handed 
the society down to this, year’s classes. He 
couldn’t imagine any other young women in our 
places. Wasn’t that nice in him?’^ 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


139 


‘‘Very nice and very true/’ agreed Emma. 
“I am of the same mind. The Sempers can 
never be imitated, passed on to the next class, 
nor replaced. They are in a class all by them- 
selves.” 

“The purpose of this new club which I pro- 
pose to organize will be one of welfare. The 
girls will do more for themselves as a self-gov- 
erning body than I can possibly do for them. 
By the way, I wonder if Miss Ward is up yet. 
She overslept and missed her first recitation 
yesterday morning. She came down to the 
dining-room long after breakfast was over. 
Susan was rather upset over having to serve 
an extra breakfast. I was obliged to tell Miss 
Ward that if it occurred again she would have 
to abide by the consequences of her own tardi- 
ness. I can’t impose upon the servants to 
please a girl who has no thought for any one 
except herself.” 

Grace spoke rather bitterly. Her early dis- 
appointment in Evelyn Ward had deepened as 
the time passed. 

“I don’t hear a sound from her room,” com- 
mented Emma, who sat before the dressing- 
table brushing her long hair. With hair brush 
poised in the air she listened intently. “She is 
dead to the world. ’ ’ 

“Then I’ll have to waken her,” sighed Grace. 


140 GEACE HAELOWE^S EETUEN 


Stepping out into the hall she knocked lightly 
on Evelyn’s door. Eeceiving no response she 
knocked again, this time vdth more force. 

“Come in,” called a sleepy voice. 

Grace turned the knob. Sure enough, Evelyn 
lay comfortably back on her pillow, her won- 
derful golden hair falling in long, loose waves 
about her. Her beauty now made little impres- 
sion upon Grace, who knew only too well the 
tantalizing, troublesome spirit that lay behind 
it. “It is almost eight o’clock. Miss Ward. 
Eemember, breakfast is over at nine.” 

“I know it,” responded Evelyn with mad- 
dening sweetness. She eyed Grace specula- 
tively, but made no effort to rise. 

Without further words Grace closed the 
door. She did not wish to betray her annoy- 
ance. She had experienced a vdld desire to 
march over to the bed and drag the complacent 
freshman forth from it by the shoulders. 

When Evelyn descended to the dining-room 
she found that most of the girls had eaten 
breakfast and gone otf to chapel. Happening 
to recall that she had not attended the morning 
services for a week, and with visions of her un- 
signed chapel card staring her in the face, she 
ate a hurried breakfast and was about to de- 
part when her eyes happened to rest upon the 
bulletin board in the hall around which were 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


141 


gathered several girls. Pausing, Evelyn read 
Grace’s notice. It asked the members of Har- 
lowe House to be in the living room at five 
o’clock that afternoon for the discussion of a 
most important subject. 

‘‘I wonder what it is,” said Nettie Weyburn, 
lively curiosity overspreading her usually 
placid face. 

‘‘I think I know,” volunteered Mary Rey- 
nolds. ‘‘Miss Harlowe was telling me only last 
night that she wishes to organize a club of just 
Harlowe House girls, with a president and 
other officers. The club will have a constitution 
and by-laws and every member will have to 
live up to them.” 

“Wouldn’t that be splendid?” asked Cecil 
Ferris, a gray-eyed, black-haired freshman 
who made up in energy what she lacked in 
height. ’ ’ 

“Who would be president I wonder,” mur- 
mured Evelyn, shooting a glance of apparent 
innocence about the circle. 

“You’d make a good president. Miss Ward,” 
declared Mary Reynolds, in open admiration. 
To her beauty-loving little soul Evelyn Avas the 
most exquisite person in the world. 

“7,” cried Evelyn in well-simulated amaze- 
ment. “I wouldn’t attempt to be. I am not 
clever or popular enough. ’ ’ 


142 GRACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


‘‘I believe you would be the very one. You 
are so independent and know just bow to do 
things.’’ Now that Mary had suggested it, it 
met with Nettie Weyburn’s placid approval. 
Cecil Ferris echoed it. She, too, had fallen 
under the spell of Evelyn’s beauty. 

must run along or be late to chapel,” mur- 
mured Evel^m modestly, and hurried off at pre- 
cisely the wisest moment to further her own 
cause. The ambition to become the president 
of the proposed club had sprung into life in her 
self-centered young soul as she stood reading 
the bulletin, and she determined that she would 
leave nothing undone to obtain the honor. 

At luncheon that day she took particular 
pains to be unusually friendly to every one with 
whom she came in contact, exhibiting a gay 
graciousness of manner toward a number of 
girls she had secretly labeled, ^‘digs, prigs and 
plodders. ’ ’ This quite won their trusting 
hearts and made them innocently wonder how 
they had, so far, happened to miss becoming 
really well acquainted with Miss Ward. 

When at five o’clock the big living room be- 
gan to fill, Evelyn was among the first there, 
with a dazzling smile for all comers. At ten 
minutes past five the thirty-three girls, who 
claimed Harlowe House as their home were sit- 
ting or standing expectantly about the room. 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


143 


waiting for Grace, who stood at one end of the 
room with Emma, to call the meeting to order 
and enter upon the discussion of that ‘‘most im- 
portant subject.’^ 

“I have asked you to come here this after- 
noon because I believe the time has arrived to 
try out a plan which I have had in my mind 
ever since college began, ’ ’ stated Grace, by way 
of beginning. Then in clear, concise sentences 
she told of her desire that her girls should be 
self-governing and of how much good fellow- 
ship their banding themselves together would 
create. “I thought, if you approved of the 
plan, we might elect our officers at once, and 
appoint a committee to draw up the constitu- 
tion and by-laws. I am going to ask you to 
talk it over among yourselves for ten minutes, 
while Miss Dean and I prepare some balloting 
slips,’’ she concluded, and at once a loud buzz 
of eager conversation began. 

It was fifteen minutes before Grace again 
called the meeting to order, and appointed four 
tellers, who distributed ballots. Then nomina- 
tions were in order. 

“I nominate Miss Ward for president,” pro- 
posed Cecil Perris. 

“I second the motion,” came from Mary 
Reynolds. 

Grace could hardly control the surprise in 


144 GEACE HAELOWE^S EETUEN 


her voice, when, after waiting a little, she 
asked: ‘‘Are there any farther nominations?’’ 

“I nominate Miss Sampson,” called a small 
pale girl from her perch in the window seat, 
with a fond smile in the direction of her room- 
mate. Another girl seconded the nomination, 
and it was then moved and seconded that the 
nominations for president be closed. The nom- 
ination for vice-president, secretary and treas- 
urer were then in order and after they were 
closed the voting began. 

“Well, of all things,” whispered Emma to 
Grace, who sank into the chair beside her 
friend, a peculiar expression on her fine face. 
“I never dreamed of matters taking that turn, 
did you?” 

Grace shook her head. It had indeed come as 
a shock. She had thought of the club as a novel 
and possible means of bringing the Harlowe 
House girls into a closer relationship with one 
another. She had never considered the possi- 
bility of Evelyn being president of the club. It 
was evident that her nomination had come 
about through admiration of her undeniable 
beauty. She was absolutely unfit for any such 
office. Grace hoped, devoutly, that Miss Samp- 
son, a tall, capable young woman, with a likable 
personality and a cheery, hearty manner of 
speaking, would be elected. 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


145 


Emma made no further remark, but watched 
the tellers with calculating eyes. At last one 
of them, who had been industriously making 
notations on a sheet of paper, rose to announce 
the results of the election. 

‘‘The total number of votes cast for presi- 
dent was thirty-three. Of these Miss Ward re- 
ceived twenty-nine’^ — an enthusiastic clapping 
of hands sounded — “Miss Sampson four.” She 
then went on to read the result of the balloting 
for the other three officers. Nettie Weyburn 
had won the vice-presidency, Cecil Ferris had 
been chosen secretary, while quiet little Mary 
Reynolds had been made treasurer. The read- 
ing of each name elicited its quota of applause, 
but it was plain that, of the four officers, Eve- 
lyn was, by far, the greatest favorite. After 
appointing a committee of four girls to assist 
her in drawing up the constitution and by-laws, 
Grace said pleasantly: “Will the new officers 
please come forward so that we can all see you. 
You must be formally introduced, you know.” 

The newly elected officers rose from their 
various positions which they occupied in the 
room and advanced to where Grace stood. 
About Evelyn Ward’s red lips played a smile 
of suppressed triumph as she shook the hand 
Grace offered her and listened to the former’s 
sincere wish for her success. For an instant 

10 — Grace Harlowe's Return to Overton Campus. 


146 GEACE HAELOWE^S EETUEN 


the gray eyes studied the perfect face gravely, 
as though trying to penetrate what lay behind 
its smiling mask. Then Grace turned to greet 
the vice-president, just in time to miss the 
mocking flash which lighted Evelyn ^s blue eyes. 


CHAPTEE XIII 

PLANNING POE THE EECEPTION 

T he committee on the constitution and by- 
laws for the new club met the very next 
evening and drew up a terse little docu- 
ment setting forth their object in banding them- 
selves together. Grace had already made note 
of the few rules she wished the girls to observe, 
but, so far as possible, she wished the commit- 
tee to draw up their own regulations, subject to 
her approval. To create a spirit of independ- 
ence and self-confidence in the girls of Harlowe 
House had been Grace ^s basic motive. She 
realized that many of them were hampered with 
an undue sense of gratitude which made them 
too humble for their own interest. She pur- 
posed to make them self-reliant and free. 
Therefore the rules which she herself made 
were few and sensible, relating chiefly to the 
care of rooms, the entertaining of guests and 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


147 


the problems which, if not properly handled, 
were the most likely to cause friction among so 
many young women of so many different dispo- 
sitions. 

‘‘But what are we to do about money, Miss 
Harlowef^’ asked Mary Reynolds in a plain- 
tive tone, when the question arose of whether 
the club should be assessed for dues, and Grace 
spoke against it. “Of what use is it to have a 
treasureless treasurer ! ’ ^ 

The committee set up a unanimous giggle. 

“That is really a serious question,’^ smiled 
Grace, “and one which the girls will have to 
decide for themselves. I should not wish any 
girl to feel that she were obliged to contribute 
money to the club, even for dues. We are not 
obliged to conform to any particular set of 
rules. Our club can be a purely informal or- 
ganization with no obligations attached to it.’’ 

“But it would be splendid to have a little 
money in the treasury,” interposed Louise 
Sampson. ‘ ‘ I know what we can do, ’ ’ she went 
on eagerly. “Let us make the dues a dollar a 
year, and pledge ourselves to earn that sum. 
Any one who feels that she can neither earn 
nor give a dollar can be a member of the club 
just the same. Then we could give entertain- 
ments or concerts or something and start a 
little fund of our own. ’ ’ 


148 GEACE HAELOWE’S EETUEN 


Grace’s gray eyes sparkled. Louise Samp- 
son was a girl after her own heart. ‘ ^ Then you 
must ask your president to call a meeting. She 
can instruct the secretary to post a notice on 
the bulletin board,” she advised. 

The committee seized upon Louise’s plan 
with avidity. 

‘‘Why can’t we post a notice and have done 
with it?” asked Cecil Ferris innocently. 

“Because we have just made a law that the 
president shall be notified of proposed meet- 
ings and shall post a bulletin to that effect,” 
reminded Grace. 

The girls remained for another hour, dis- 
cussing their plans and reconstructing their 
by-laws previous to voting on them. It was 
decided to have a weekly meeting to take place 
on each Tuesda^^ between five and six o ’clock in 
the afternoon, but a special meeting might be 
called at any time at the request of a member, 
but at the president’s discretion. 

“The last clause in that by-law is unfortu- 
nate,” criticized Emma, when, in the privacy of 
their room that night, Grace went over with 
her friend the club rules as she had set them 
dovm. 

“I know what you mean.” Grace gave an 
impatient sigh. “Still, as president of the club 
Miss Ward must be consulted about things. 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


149 


You think she is likely to refuse to call a meet- 
ing at the request of a member, if she happens 
to be so inclined, don’t you?” 

“I do, and she will,” prophesied Emma. ‘‘I 
wouldn’t lose any sleep over it, Gracie, but still 
it’s a good plan to be prepared in advance for 
the beauteous Evelyn’s vagaries. To change 
the subject, I have heard very little mention 
made of the sophomore reception in the house. 
I wonder if it is because some of the girls have 
no evening gowns ? ’ ’ 

Grace sat up in her chair, with a start of sur- 
prise. ‘‘Eeally, Emma, I had forgotten all 
about the reception. I suppose it slipped my 
mind because it is to be held so much later this 
year on account of repairing the gymna- 
sium. It will hardly be over until Thanksgiv- 
ing will be upon us, and then, oh, joy! we’ll see 
the dear old Sempers. I must see if there is 
anything I can do to help the girls get ready 
for it. I hope they understand that their sum- 
mer dresses will do nicely.” 

For the next three days Grace made it a point 
to inquire tactfully into the reception plans of 
the Harlowe House girls. She discovered that 
Emma’s conjecture had been only too correct. 
The bare mention of evening gowns had intimi- 
dated them, and, worse still, only three or four 
of them had been especially invited by sopho- 


150 GRACE HABLOWE’S RETURN 


mores. This was partly accounted for by the 
fact that, while the sophomore class was large, 
it was completely outnumbered by the entering 
class. Remembering that the same state of af- 
fairs had prevailed when she had entered Over- 
ton as a freshman, Grace proceeded to make a 
round of calls which began with the members 
of the reception committee, and included Vio- 
let Darby, Myra Stone, Laura Atkins, Mildred 
Taylor, Patience, Kathleen and others of the 
upper classes whom she knew well, though not 
intimately. The reception committee had ex- 
pressed their absolute willingness to allow the 
upper class girls to help them out on escort 
duty and the girls themselves entered heartily 
into the plan. 

‘M’ll walk over to Harlowe House with you 
now and invite Mary Reynolds,’’ declared 
Kathleen West, who was the last girl on 
Grace’s list. ‘H’m glad to have the opportun- 
ity. What a bright little thing Mary is 1 She is 
quick as a flash when it comes to grasping an 
idea. I tell her she has the making of a good 
newspaper woman in her. ’ ’ 

‘‘She is Emma’s star pupil in English. 
Emma says she writes the most original 
themes. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ She has all sorts of queer fancies about peo- 
ple and things,” went on Kathleen. “I can’t 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


151 


begin to tell you, Grace, bow glad I am to be of 
some help to her. I must do something to make 
up for lost time.’’ A faint color tinged Kath- 
leen’s pale face. 

‘‘You are doing a great deal for Mary Rey- 
nolds, Kathleen. She loves you dearly?” 

“It certainly is nice to be liked,” returned 
Kathleen softly. “If it hadn’t been for you 
and Elfreda and Patience I would have gone on 
in the same hard, selfish spirit in which I be- 
gan college.” 

“As it is, you are one of the literary lights of 
Overton, and a joy to your friends,” said 
Grace gayly. “I wish you were at Harlowe 
House this year with Emma and me.” 

“I wish I were,” sighed Kathleen, “but I 
didn’t feel that it would be fair to apply for 
admission there. You see, Grace, my salary on 
the newspaper, during the summer, is a gener- 
ous one, and, by managing carefully, I can pay 
my expenses in college for the year with it. I 
don’t have to do that, however, for every week 
I write a story for the Sunday edition of our 
paper which more than pays my board at 
Wayne Hall. Then I send in extra space 
articles and go out on special stories during the 
Christmas and Easter vacations. I am never 
really very short of money, so I’m not eligible 
as a member of your household.” 


152 GKACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


^‘You are a clever, capable girl, Kathleen,’’ 
averred Grace, with honest admiration, ‘ ‘ and I 
am proud to be your friend.” 

A long look of perfect understanding passed 
between the two. It had come only after many 
days of misunderstanding and doubt. 

“Dear Loyalheart, I can never forgive my- 
self for making you so unhappy,” Kathleen’s 
crips tones trembled. 

“And I shall never forgive you if you men- 
tion it again,” retorted Grace. “You mustn’t 
recall such things. I am enough of a believer 
in destiny to feel that we had to go through a 
kind of probation period before we were ready 
to be friends.” 

“It’s dear in you to say so, Grace, but I know 
myself, and how contemptibly I behaved. I’ve 
been determined to say this to you ever since I 
came back to college, but you have never given 
me the least chance until now.” 

“ ‘Loyalheart’ was the highest proof of your 
regard you could have given me,” reminded 
Grace gently. “I don’t need any other re- 
minders. I must go, Kathleen. Did I hear you 
say you were going with meU’ 

“Yes.” 

Kathleen slipped into her hat and coat, and, 
as they went down Mrs. Elwood’s familiar 
stairs and strolled out into the crisp autumn 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


153 


air, arm in arm, Kathleen felt that she could 
never be thankful enough to the girl who 
had taught her the true meaning of college 
spirit. 


CHAPTEE XIV 

A DISQUIETING THOUGHT 

W HEN half way across the campus the 
two young women encountered Eve- 
lyn Ward. The cold crisp November 
air had deepened the pink in her cheeks to liv- 
ing rose. Her violet eyes fairly blazed with 
light and sparkle, and her wonderful golden 
hair peeped in fascinating little curls from un- 
der her gray velour hat. She wore a three- 
quarter length gray coat, cut in the smartest 
fashion, and a passing glance at her would have 
left one with the impression that she was in 
affluent circumstances. 

‘‘How can a girl who canT afford to pay her 
college expenses wear such smart clothes!’’ was 
Kathleen’s appraising comment after they had 
passed Evelyn, who nodded to them in conde- 
scending fashion. 

“Her sister, Ida, makes them. She told me 
so when she came here to ask me to take Miss 


154 GEACE HAELOWE’S EETUEN 


Ward into Harlowe House. She is a very 
pretty girl, isn ’t she f ^ ’ 

Kathleen nodded. ‘‘How are things at Har- 
lowe House she inquired irrelevantly. 

“Going beautifully. I told you about our 
club didn^t IV’ 

“ Not a word. I haven’t seen you for a week. ’ ’ 

The newspaper girl listened interestedly to 
Grace ’s account of the club. ‘ ‘ It would make a 
good story for my paper,” she commented. 
“How about it, Grace?” 

“Your welcome to it if the girls don’t ob- 
ject. Suppose you come as a guest to our next 
meeting and ask their permission.” 

“I’ll do it,” promised Kathleen. 

Mary Eeynolds received and accepted Kath- 
leen’s invitation to the reception with unmis- 
takable joy. Grace had sent home for a pink 
silk evening gown, which she had worn but 
little, and fairly forced it, with slippers, stock- 
ings and gloves, upon the reluctant Mary, with 
the plea that pink was not her color and there- 
fore she never wore the frock. Aside from 
shortening it, it had needed little alteration, and 
when the night of the sophomore reception ar- 
rived, Kathleen appeared, an hour before the 
time to start for the dance, to help Mary dress. 
She brought a cluster of pinky- white roses and 
a pink chiffon scarf, which, she diplomatically 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


155 


insisted, did not go well with any of her gowns 
and exactly matched Mary’s. 

‘‘I can’t believe that I am I,” Mary said 
happily, as she viewed herself wonderingly in 
the round dressing-table mirror. She clasped 
her thin, childish hands impulsively together. 
“I wish every girl in the world had such good 
friends and pretty clothes as I have ! ’ ’ 

‘‘I hope no one has such elusive hooks and 
eyes on their clothes as I have,” grumbled 
Emma Dean, who had appeared in the doorway 
in time to hear Mary’s heartfelt remark. ‘‘I 
have permanently dislocated one shoulder and 
ruined the charming curves of both my elbows 
forever, in a vain, but valiant, effort to unite 
one miserable hook and eye, which I’m sure the 
dressmaker purposely sewed out of my reach.” 

^ ‘ Poor Enuna, ’ ’ sympathized Kathleen. ‘ ‘ Let 
me help you.” 

Emma surrendered herself to Kathleen’s deft 
fingers with a ludicrous gesture of resignation. 

‘‘Are all the Harlowe House girls going!” 
asked Kathleen. 

“Yes; thanks to the juniors and seniors, not 
one has been left out. It is such a clear, pleas- 
ant night the campus house girls won’t need 
carriages,” answered Grace. “It is eight 
o’clock now. Don’t you think you had better 
start? You go on with the girls, Emma. I’ll 


156 GEACE HAELOWE^S EETUEN 


run over some time during the evening for a 
few minutes.’’ 

After the merrymakers had set out for the 
gymnasium, Grace retired to her office to write 
a letter to her mother. She had hardly settled 
herself when the door bell rang and she heard 
a high, clear voice asking the maid for Miss 
Ward. 

‘‘Please tell her to hurry, my car is waiting,” 
instructed the voice, as the maid ushered the 
newcomer into the living-room. Grace glanced 
through the open door of the office into the next 
room. In Evelyn’s escort she recognized Al- 
thea Parker, one of the most snobbish girls at 
Overton College, and a member of the sopho- 
more class. Evelyn’s declaration on her arri- 
val at Overton that she intended to cultivate 
the richest girls in college now came back to 
Grace with disagreeable force. 

“Good evening. Miss Harlowe,” hailed Al- 
thea, as Grace rose and went forward to greet 
her. “We are going to be late. I hope Evelyn 
won ’t keep me waiting. ’ ’ There was a touch of 
impatience in her voice. 

Even as she spoke there was a patter of light 
feet on the stairs, and Evelyn appeared in the 
doorway, her evening coat and scarf on her 
arm. 

Grace gave an involuntary gasp of admira- 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


157 


tion, while Althea cried out openly, ‘^Evelyn 
Ward, you are wonderful!’’ 

Evelyn’s violet blue eyes flashed with grati- 
fied vanity. She worn an exquisite gown of 
white silk and lace made in an apparently^ 
simple but very smart fashion, which revealed 
the pure beauty of her white throat and 
rounded arms, increasing her loveliness ten- 
fold. She wore white silk stockings and white 
satin slippers with little rhinestone buckles. 
Her thick golden hair was drawn high on her 
head in a graceful knot and clustered in little 
curls about her temples and over her forehead, 
while her whole face was alive with excitement. 
At her corsage was an immense bunch of vio- 
lets, evidently sent her by her escort. 

‘ ‘ Shall I do ? ” she asked pertly, walking over 
to the living-room mirror for a last peep at 
herself. 

‘‘You look very lovely to-night,” said Grace 
honestly. 

“Thank you,” she swept Grace a curtsey. A 
faint mocking smile played about her red lips, 
as though she doubted the sincerity of the re- 
mark. Slipping on her evening coat of white 
broadcloth, and placing an extremely handsome 
scarf of white and gold over her pretty head, 
Eveljui walked to the door, followed by Althea 
Parker, who, divided between admiration of 


158 GEACE HAELOWE’S EETUEN 


Evelyn and fear of being late, was talldng rap- 
idly in her high, excited voice. 

‘‘Good night. Miss Harlowe,’’ she nodded. 

“Oh, yes, good night,’’ called Evelyn care- 
lessly. 

Grace leaned back in her chair and smiled at 
Evelyn’s slightly cavalier treatment of herself. 
“How her sister has spoiled her,” she mused. 
“She treats me as though I were one of the 
maids. To see her to-night one would be quite 
likely to imagine that she, rather than Miss 
Parker, were the richest girl in Overton.” 

A sudden, startled look stole into Grace’s 

eyes. “Why, where ” She paused as 

though she had come upon something which did 
not quite please her. As a matter of fact it had 
recurred to her with an unpleasant jolt that 
Evelyn was wearing an evening gown entirely 
too expensive for her present circumstances. 
So were her evening coat, her scarf and all the 
dainty appointments which so perfectly 
matched the white silk frock. Again she re- 
called that Ida Ward planned and made all her 
sister’s gowns. Even so, shfe must have spent 
considerable money on E velum’s evening 
clothes. Suppose these things were to be no- 
ticed and commented upon by the girls in the 
house, or by outsiders who knew nothing of the 
real source of Evelyn’s wardrobe? Suppose 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


159 


some one were ill-natured enough to say that a 
girl who could afford such expensive gowns 
ought to he able to pay her own expenses and 
give her place in Harlowe House to some one 
more needy. Had not Kathleen asked how Eve- 
Ijn could afford to wear such smart clothes? 

Yet on the other hand, there was nothing to 
be done. Grace did not feel it within her prov- 
ince to take Evelyn to task on the subject of her 
wearing apparel. All she could do was to trust 
that what had perplexed her would pass unno- 
ticed and uncriticized. 


CHAPTEE XV 

A SEMPER EmELIS REUNION 

FEABJOUS day!’’ rejoiced Emma 
1 t Dean, using her bath towel as a scarf 
and performing a weird dance about 
the room. ‘ H know I shall go chortling through 
my classes this morning in a highly undignified 
manner. To think that dear old Semper Fidelis 
will hold forth again in the same old haunts! 
And the most beautiful part is that there will 
be no vacant chairs. ’ ’ 

Emma’s delight was reflected on Grace’s 
face. It was the morning before Thanksgiving 


160 GEACE HAELOWE’S EETUEN 


Day and the two young women were preparing 
to go to breakfast, full of happy anticipation, 
for the various afternoon trains were to bring 
to them their Semper Fidelis comrades. It had 
all begun with Elfreda’s and Mabel Ashe’s 
promises to spend Thanksgiving at Harlowe 
House. Then Elfreda had persuaded Arline 
Thayer, whom she saw frequently in New York, 
to join them. Arline had written to Euth, who 
had come on to New York for a long visit to 
her chum in time to swell the band. Elfreda 
had promptly written Grace that if she would 
see that Miriam and Anne put in an appearance 
at the proper moment, the Briggs Helping 
Hand Society would guarantee that the other 
members should appear at Overton on the ap- 
pointed day. 

‘‘Elfreda has taken rather a large contract 
on her hands,” Grace had said to Emma, on re- 
ceiving the letter. “She evidently knows what 
she’s doing, so I had better write to Miriam 
and Anne.” 

Miriam’s promise to come had been easily ob- 
tained, but Anne was not sure of attending the 
Semper Fidelis reunion, until the week before 
Thanksgiving, when Everett Southard, who 
was then playing in Shakespearian repertoire 
in New York, obligingly arranged to give the 
“Taming of the Shrew” on the day before 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


161 


Thanksgiving, and ‘‘King Richard III’’ on 
Thanksgiving Day. As Anne did not appear in 
either play, her Thanksgiving freedom 'was as- 
sured. 

And novv" the great day had da'wned at last ! 
There were to be recitations in the morning, 
but college would close at noon, not to reopen 
until the follo'wing Monday. The Semper Fi- 
delis girls were to be Elfreda’s guests at Vin- 
ton’s that night at a six o’clock dinner. On 
Thanksgiving morning they were to breakfast 
at the Tourraine as the guests of Ruth and Ar- 
line. Thanksgmng dinner at Martell’s was to 
be Anne’s and Miriam’s part of the celebration, 
while Thanksgiving night Emma and Grace 
were to be hostesses at Vinton’s, their favorite 
rendezvous. 

Grace would have dearly loved to be hostess 
at the Thanksgiving dinner, but she felt that 
her duty lay with her household. She won- 
dered whether it would be really right for her 
to remain away from Harlowe House for so 
many meals. After long and earnest discus- 
sion, she and Emma had arranged that she 
would give up eating Thanksgiving dinner 'with 
her friends, while Emma cheerfully agreed to 
preside at the Harlowe House breakfast table 
on Thanksgiving morning. It was decided that 
Louise Sampson, of whom Grace had gro'wn 

11 — Grace Harlowe* s Return to Overton Campus. 


162 GEACE HAELOWE’S EETUEN 


extremely fond, was the best possible person to 
leave in charge during their absence on Thanks- 
giving night, for neither Grace nor Emma felt 
that they could bear to miss that last gathering 
together of their beloved Semper Fidelis 
friends. 

‘‘I wonder who will be first on the scene,’’ 
speculated Grace. 

‘‘Consult the time table, my child,” advised 
Emma. ‘ ‘ I have no time for speculation. I am 
starting on a hunt in darkest Deanery for my 
cutf links. They are tucked away in some re- 
mote corner of the Dean territory, but which 
corner?” 

“They are in one end of your handkerchief 
box. I saw you put them there yesterday, you 
ridiculous person,” laughed Grace. 

‘ ‘ Thank you, thank you ! ‘ One good turn de- 
serves another,’ ” quoted Emma fervently. 
“Bring forth the fateful time table and I’ll sort 
out the trains and the order of arrival of the 
clan. 

“I haven’t a time table,” confessed Grace. 

“Then we’ll have to let the trains run mer- 
rily on, and the railroad do its perfect work. 
I’m sorry I can’t pay my debt of gratitude. I 
am always helpful. I was always helpful. I 
have been helpful. I would be helpful. I 
might have been helpful and I may yet be help- 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


163 


conjugated Emma hopefully, ‘‘but not 
without a time table. 

“I appreciate your splendid spirit of help- 
fulness even though it isn’t of any use at pres- 
ent,” assured Grace satirically. “I sup- 
pose ” 

A long reverberating ring of the bell cut 
short her remark. 

The two friends exchanged questioning 
glances. 

“It can’t be one of the girls. It’s only eight 
o’clock,” was Emma’s quick comment. 

Grace opened the door and listened intently. 
Emma joined her, peering over her shoulder. 
Then Miss Duncan’s dignified assistant in Eng- 
lish gave an unmistakable, though subdued, 
war whoop, and, seizing Grace by the hand, 
made for the stairs. Grace needed no assist- 
ance. An instant later they brought up at the 
foot of the stairs and made a simultaneous 
rush for a tall, plump young woman, enveloping 
her in a tempestuous embrace. 

“I might have known you’d be the first,” 
cried Grace with joyful affection. “You must 
have taken a train in the middle of the night. ’ ’ 

“I did,” returned J. Elfreda Briggs calmly. 
“We are living in New York this winter, so Pa 
brought me to the station in his own pet car and 
saw me safely on my way. Emma Dean, you 


164 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


good old comrade, how are youU^ Elfreda 
turned from Grace to Emma. 

Emma surveyed Elfreda with fond eyes. 
‘‘Just now I’m overcome at seeing you, J. El- 
freda. How we have missed you ! ’ ’ Depth of 
feeling for the moment checked Emma’s irre- 
pressible flow of humor. Next to Grace, in her 
regard, came the one-time stout girl, now 
merely plump and extremely attractive. 

Tears flashed across J. Elfreda ’s eyes as she 
stood looking into the faces of these friends, 
whom she loved so truly, yet saw so seldom. 
“Missing people has been my greatest cross 
this year,” she said, her voice not quite steady. 
“There’s no use in making a fuss, though. I’m 
beginning to learn that.” 

A brief silence fell upon the three class- 
mates. 

“Have you had your breakfast, Elfreda?” 
asked Grace, almost abruptly. 

“Are there waffles?” counter-questioned El- 
freda. 

‘ ‘ There can be. The Harlowe House kitchen 
boasts of waffle irons, bought with this occasion 
in view.” 

“Then I am heart and soul for breakfast,” 
avowed Elfreda. “I ate my usual sumptuous 
repast of half a grape fruit and a piece of dry 
toast, plus one small cup of black coffee, on the 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


165 


train. I haven’t had a waffle since I was here 
in August. I wonder how they would taste,” 
she added innocently. 

“You’ll know before long,” promised Grace. 
“Emma take Elfreda upstairs to our room, 
while I ask Sarah to make the waffles. ’ ’ 

Half an hour later they sat around the break- 
fast table, a contented trio. After Emma had 
left them to go to her work, Grace and Elfreda 
had a long confidential conversation over their 
coffee. The noon train brought Mabel Ashe, 
Arline and Ruth, while from off the afternoon 
trains stepped Anne and Miriam, the smiling 
Emerson twins, Elizabeth Wade, Marian Cum- 
mings and Elsie Wilton. 

It was a congenial and talkative company 
that, as Elfreda ’s guests, graced Vinton’s at 
six o’clock dinner that night. Kathleen West, 
who had been prevailed upon to spend at least 
one Thanksgiving at Overton, instead of on 
duty on her paper, was one of three guests of 
honor, Mabel Ashe and Patience Eliot were the 
others. By special arrangement a table that 
would seat fifteen persons had been set in their 
favorite rendezvous, the mission alcove. El- 
freda, Grace, Anne and Miriam, rejoicing in 
their reunion, had made a tour of the stores to- 
gether than afternoon, and gleefully carrying 
the fruits of their shopping to Vinton’s had 


166 GEACE HAELOWE^S EETUEN 


decorated the table with flowers, ribbons and 
funny little favors. 

The Overton girls that happened to drop into 
Vinton’s that night smiled appreciatively at the 
gay little company in the alcove. A glance in 
that direction on the part of the upper class 
girls was sufficient. They knew that Semper 
Fidelis, the darling of the Overton clubs, was 
making merry. The freshmen, however, had to 
have matters explained to them by their 
friends. 

‘^That Semper Fidelis club was the life of 
Overton,” Althea Parker explained to Evelyn 
Ward. That’s one reason I asked you to come 
here with me to-night. I wanted you to see 
them together.” The two were seated at a 
small table not far from that of the Sempers. 

Evelyn made no response. Her eyes were 
fixed upon the mission alcove. She knew, only 
too well, that Althea’s invitation to dinner had 
not been disinterested. She had learned to 
know that Althea was not only snobbish, but 
self-seeking as well. For whatever she gave 
she demanded value received. Evelyn had been 
in the living-room when Grace and Elfreda re- 
turned from their shopping. She had heard 
them discussing the dinner, and had lost no 
time in slipping on her wraps and carrying the 
news to Althea, who, as she had hoped, had 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


167 


at once invited her to dinner at Vinton’s. 

‘‘Althea thinks I’ll attract the attention of 
those girls,” Evelyn had speculated shrewdly. 

Meanwhile the girls in the alcove, quite un- 
conscious of the discussion going on about them 
at the other tables, were in their element. One 
after another the dear wraiths of their Overton 
days were summoned, to be laughingly and lov- 
ingly reviewed, then lingeringly laid to rest 
again. 

“Girls, do you remember the dinner we gave 
here after the ghost party?” asked Mabel 
Ashe, her brown eyes alight with mischief. 
“Some of your girls weren’t here that night, 
but at least half of you were.” 

“I ought to remember it,” declared Elfreda 
significantly. 

“Yes, Elfreda, it was in honor of you, I be- 
lieve,” laughed Arline. The dinner to which 
Mabel referred belonged to Elfreda ’s freshman 
year at Overton. 

“It was indeed,” affirmed Anne Pierson. 
“Every one of our four years brought its own 
parties.” 

“And its own problems,” supplemented 
Miriam. 

“Of whom we were which,” murmured J. 
Elfreda. 

Every one laughed at this naive assertion. 


168 GRACE HAELOWE^S RETURN 


‘‘But weVe all turned out creditably,’’ 
smiled Miriam Nesbit, ^‘thanks to our Loyal- 
heart. She opened the way to good com- 
radeship for me, long ago, in my high school 
days.” 

‘‘She found my father for me!” said Ruth 
Denton, her eyes eloquent. 

“She stood by me when I needed her most,” 
said Anne. 

“Girls, I won’t ” Grace half rose from 

her chair, but was gently shoved into it 
again. 

“Sit still and hear the rest of your mis- 
deeds,” commanded Mabel. “Go on, Arline.” 

“She helped me to be unselfish and to think 
of others,” was Arline ’s sweet tribute. 

“She made me over,” asserted Elfreda with 
emphasis. 

“She taught me college spirit,” said Kath- 
leen softly. 

‘ ‘ Sara and I didn’t like college and never had 
much fun until Grace asked us to join the 
Sempers,” declared Sue Emerson. 

“She was the first to welcome me to Over- 
ton, and has given me countless good times 
since then,” said Patience. 

“She taught me to look for the best rather 
than the worst, even in my enemies,” declared 
Mabel Ashe. 



169 




TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


171 


Elizabeth Wade, Marian Cummings and 
Elsie Wilton each added their tribute. 

Girls, if you only knew how terribly this 
embarrasses me, ’ ’ pleaded Grace. ^ ^ Every one 
of yon have done the nicest sort of things for 
me. I think ’’ 

“You are not allowed to think,’’ put in 
Miriam. “We will do the thinking for the next 
two minutes. Besides J. Elfreda has some- 
thing to say. Go ahead, Elfreda. ’ ’ 

“Grace, you’ve heard what we all had to say 
about you, but there is a whole lot that we can 
never find words for. Each of us knows best 
what you’ve been to us, as individuals, and we 
all know that there will never be any other girl 
quite as dear, and true, and loyal as you are to 
us. So we decided to give our Loyalheart a 
loyalty token, and here it is. Hold out your 
arm,” commanded Elfreda. 

Grace held out her pretty, bare arm in obedi- 
ent bewilderment. Something shining slipped 
over her w^rist. She stared at it in fascination. 

‘ ^ How beautiful ! ’ ’ she gasped. ‘ ‘ It can ’t be 
for me!” The bracelet was a wide band of 
dull gold, chased with a pattern of tiny leaves, 
and, at intervals, its golden circle was starred 
with small diamonds. It was the most expen- 
sive piece of jewelry Grace had ever owned. 

Every one of our initials is inside,” infoimied 


172 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


Elsie Wilton triumphantly. Grace slipped the 
band off her arm and peered into it. Sure 
enough there were rows of tiny initials in- 
scribed on the smooth gold. 

‘‘And now let us drink a toast to our Loyal- 
heart and go up to the Tourraine/^ proposed 
Elfreda, after the excitement attending the 
presentation of the bracelet had died out. 
‘ ‘ Here ’s to our Loyalheart ! Drink her down ! ’ ’ 

The emptied lemonade glasses were set on 
the table and the party rose to go. 

As they were passing out, Grace and Anne 
walked with linked arms, determined to make 
the most of their brief hour together. 

“Oh, Grace, I almost forgot to ask you,’’ be- 
gan Anne, “who was that beautiful girl at the 
next table to the alcove? I saw you speak to 
her. She was with Miss Parker, that little girl 
of 19 — who has so much money.” 

“That was Evelyn Ward, Anne, and thereby 
hangs a tale which I’ll entertain you with to- 
morrow. One thing about her will interest you. 
She wants to become an actress. She thinks 
you are the wonder of this century. I’ll intro- 
duce her to you to-morrow.” 

“She is beautiful,” commented Anne, “and 
if she is really sincere in her ambition I might 
help her to attain her ambition.” 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


173 


CHAPTER XVI 

THE IlSTTEKKUPTED CONFIDENCE 

T he days that lay between Thanksgiving 
and Christmas passed swiftly and nn- 
eventfully for Grace. As the holiday va- 
cation drew near she was divided, however, be- 
tween her desire to go home and her duty to 
Harlowe House. It was Emma Dean who finally 
settled the question by announcing that she 
did not intend to go home for Christmas and 
would gladly look after things during Grace’s 
absence. The trip home was too expensive 
Emma had stated frankly, and her railroad fare 
would be quite a help when added to the Dean 
housekeeping fund. Once she had made her 
decision to stay at Overton she began to lay 
plans for a happy holiday season for the Har- 
lowe House girls, who, without exception, were 
also to remain in Overton for their vacation. 
Two days before Christmas Grace left Overton 
for Oakdale, with many injunctions to Emma to 
take things easy and to telegraph her at once if 
she needed her. 

Once at home a round of merry parties be- 
gan. True to their promise J essica and Reddy 
had come back to Oakdale for Christmas. The 


174 GKACE HAELOWE^S EETUEN 


only missing member of the Eight Originals 
was Anne, and the Sunday morning following 
Christmas Day she walked into the Harlowe’s 
living room accompanied by Everett Southard 
and his sister. She could not bear to allow the 
holidays to pass Avithout seeing her friends, so 
she and the Southards had taken the midnight 
train for Oakdale, determined to spend at least 
one day there. That evening a contented, 
happy company gathered at the Nesbits, as 
Miriam ^s and David’s guests, at a dinner given 
in honor of the unexpected arrivals. After a 
short, but exceedingly earnest, confab in a cosy 
corner just off the hall, Anne and David had 
appeared arm in arm, and, to an accompani- 
ment of meaning smiles, had announced their 
engagement. Although Miriam Nesbit was en- 
tirely unaware of it, four pairs of eyes, belong- 
ing to the feminine half of the Eight Originals 
had kept a l^mx-like watch upon her and Ever- 
ett Southard. Afterward Grace confided to 
Anne that she believed Miriam did like Mr. 
Southard a little, and it was quite plain to be 
seen that Mr. Southard cared for her, while 
Jessica and Nora were wagging their heads in 
secret agreement of the same belief. 

Only one thing marred Grace’s pleasure in 
being at home and that was the thought that 
she was making Tom Gray unhappy. Out- 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


175 


wardly he was the same sunny, smiling Tom she 
had known for so many years, but there were 
times when the mask of cheerfulness fell away 
and Grace read in his eyes a look of pain and 
longing that caused her to reproach herself. 
Then her honest nature would reassert itself 
and she would vow never to promise to marry 
Tom out of sympathy. Unless there came a 
time when she was absolutely convinced that 
he meant more to her than her work she 
and Tom would have to go on in the same old 
way. 

But aside from this one cloud it seemed to 
Grace that she had never before so fully ap- 
preciated her father and mother. ‘‘You grow 
dearer every minute,’’ she assured them on 
her last night at home. She sat between them 
on a little stool, holding a hand of each. “If 
you don’t put me out on the steps to-morrow 
morning with my luggage, and lock the door in 
my face, I know I’ll never, never have the 
courage to go away from you. It is really a 
tragedy, this wanting to be in two places at 
once.” 

“Dear child,” said her mother softly, while 
her father stroked her shining hair and won- 
dered how he ever managed to get along with- 
out her during the long months she spent at 
Overton. “We hate to give you up, Gracie,” 


176 GEACE HAELOWE^S EETUEN 


lie said, ‘‘but we love you all the more for your 
faithfulness to your work/^ 

And that was the thought which Grace took 
back with her to Overton. She smiled to her- 
self as she swung briskly through the quiet 
streets. Their approbation had quickened her 
spirit to put forth fresh effort. She felt as 
though she could remove mountains if they hap- 
pened to rise suddenly in her path. And in 
this state of mental exhilaration she ran up 
the steps of Harlowe House and, after a sec- 
ond’s fumbling with her latchkey, let her- 
self in. 

It was almost six o’clock in the afternoon, 
and the darkness of early January had settled 
down upon the landscape. A wet, discouraging 
snow, which made the streets a slush-covered 
menace to pedestrians, was falling, and Grace 
gave a soft sigh of satisfaction as she stepped 
into the cheery, well-lighted hall. Knowing 
that she was quite likely to find Emma in her 
room she hurried up the stairs. Her hand was 
on the door knob when she heard what sounded 
suspiciously like a sob. Grace flung open the 
door and rushed into her room, her face alive 
with concern. What could possibly have hap- 
pened to make jolly, self-reliant Emma Dean 
cry? She exclaimed in quick surprise, however, 
for, other than herself, the room held no occu- 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


177 


pant. sure I heard some one crying/’ 

she murmured. She listened intently. A mo- 
ment later the same doleful sound was again 
borne to her ears. Walking quickly into the 
bathroom she stood by the door that opened 
into Evelyn Ward’s room. 

‘‘It comes from Miss Ward’s room,” was her 
second surmisal. “I wonder what I ought to 
do. She is so easily offended that, if I go to her, 
she may resent my call and think me meddle- 
some and interfering.” Grace continued to 
listen uneasily to the unmistakable sounds of 
grief that came from the next room. 

“Something serious has certainly happened. 
I can’t stand it to hear her cry so. I’ll take the 
risk of being misunderstood,” she decided 
with a grim little smile. 

Stepping out of her room into the hall she 
knocked softly on Evelyn’s door, receiving no 
answer. Her second and rather more emphatic 
knock elicited a faint, “Who is there?” 

“Miss Harlowe,” answered Grace. “May I 
come in for a moment, Miss Ward?” 

She heard Evelyn moving about the room for 
a moment, then the door was opened slowly, 
and with apparent reluctance on the part of the 
pretty freshman, who had evidently dried her 
tears for the time being. 

“How do you do, Miss Harlowe?” she said 

12 — Grace Harlowe* s Return to Overton Campus. 


178 GEACE HAELOWE^S EETUEN 


in a queer, strained voice. did not know 
that yon had returned from yonr vacation.’^ 
She did not offer her hand to Grace. In her 
blue eyes lay a look of positive fear. 

came in not more than ten minutes ago,’’ 
returned Grace, stepping into the room and 
closing the door after her. Then with her 
usual directness she said, ‘‘Miss Ward, I 
heard you crying. I came to see if I could help 
you.” 

The look of fear in Evelyn’s eyes deepened. 
She continued to regard Grace intently, as 
though trying to discover whether there could 
be any other motive for her visit. In spite of 
the etf ort she was making to be natural her face 
expressed absolute consternation. 

“It — ^was — nothing,” she stammered, at last. 
‘ ‘ I am not feeling very well. ’ ’ 

Grace was not deceived. She knew that Eve- 
lyn was not the kind of girl to cry hysterically 
over a slight illness. Still she could not force 
this perverse young woman to tell that which 
she did not choose to tell. 

“I am sorry you won’t let me help you. Are 
you sure that I can’t be of service to you.” 

Evelyn laughed shortly. “No; I 
am quite sure that you can’t be.” 

“Very well.” Grace was about to leave the 
room. 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


179 


“Wait a minute!’’ Evelyn’s voice rang ont 
sharply. “I — I — will tell yon my trouble, Miss 
Harlowe. It’s about — my college fees. I paid 
part of the money when I came here. My — my 
— sister has been very ill and can’t send the 
rest of the money. She made a special ar- 
rangement with the registrar to make the other 
payment in November. IVe received two no- 
tices. I don’t know what to do. I can’t bear to 
leave Overton.” 

“Why didn’t you come to me before?” asked 
Grace with gentle reproach. “I can help you 
in this matter through the Semper Fidelis 
fund.” 

Grace went on to explain the purpose of the 
Semper Fidelis Club. “We lend the students 
the money rather than give it to them, because 
they like to feel that they are proceeding on a 
strictly business basis. It takes away the 
slightest idea of charity and makes the girls 
quite responsible for themselves.” 

“I see,” murmured Evelyn. “But suppose 
I borrowed the money and then found that I 
couldn’t return it for ever so long?” 

“There is neither time limit set nor interest 
charged on any reasonable sum of money a girl 
may wish to borrow,” returned Grace. “We 
have the utmost confidence in our borrowers. 
The very fact that they come to us for help is 


180 GEACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


an avowal of their honesty. How much money 
do yon wish to borrow, Miss WardU’ 

Evelyn rather hesitatingly named a snm con- 
siderably in excess of that needed for her col- 
lege fees. ‘Ht — will — pay my expenses for the 
year and leave me a little besides for emergen- 
cies,” she explained apologetically. ‘‘Then 
poor Ida can get well and won T have to worry. 
I am sure I can work at something this summer 
and pay at least part of the money back to the 
club.” 

She swept a swift, speculative glance at 
Grace from under her eyelashes which quite be- 
lied her earnest tones. Grace, however, ab- 
sorbed for a brief moment in her own thoughts, 
failed to see it. When she looked at Evelyn 
the latter ’s face bore a sweetly grateful expres- 
sion that made her wonder if she had not been 
mistaken in her estimate of the, hitherto, 
troublesome freshman. Her apparent anxiety 
to relieve her sister of worry over financial dif- 
ficulties was distinct evidence of an affection 
of which Grace had not believed Evelyn ca- 
pable. “I have misjudged her,” was Grace 
thought. ‘ ‘ She really cares for her sister. ^ ’ 

Aloud she said, “I will write at once toTVliss 
Thayer, who is the president of the Semper 
Fidelis Club, and in whose name the account 
stands, telling her the circumstances. This far 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


181 


we have not received many calls for help since 
college opened, so there is quite a little money 
in bank. It is during the last half of the year 
that we make the greatest number of loans. I 
am sorry that your sister has been ill. If you 
will give me her address I will write to her to- 
night.” 

Evelyn flushed hotly. ‘‘Oh, no, you 
mustn ’t ! ” she exclaimed sharply. ‘ ‘ That is — I 
mean you — ^mustn’t put yourself — to so much 
trouble for me,” she added lamely. 

“It won’t be a particle of trouble,” assured 
Grace. “I should like to do so.” 

Evelyn’s confusion deepened. “I — can’t 
” she floundered. 

Grace regarded her with quiet, searching 
eyes. But before she had time to go on from 
wonder at Evelyn’s strange objection to her 
writing her sister to actual suspicion, Evelyn 
interposed eagerly, “I’ll give you the address, 
with pleasure. Miss Harlowe. Wait a moment.” 
She sprang to her open writing desk and seiz- 
ing a piece of paper and a pencil wrote ener- 
getically for a moment. 

“Here it is.” 

She laid it before Grace, who picked it up 
and read, “Miss Ida Ward, 320 Duverne Street, 
Albany, N. Y.” 

A puzzled frown wrinkled Grace’s forehead. 


182 GRACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


‘‘I thought your sister told me she lived in Bur- 
ton. I must have misunderstood her. ^ ’ 

‘^So we did,’’ put in Evelyn hurriedly, ‘‘but 
Ida is spending the winter with my aunt in Al- 
bany. She went there just before she was 
taken ill. We may never go back to Burton 
again to live. Of course I am not sure of that. 
Perhaps I can find work in a large city during 
my sununer vacation.” 

‘ ‘ That reminds me, ’ ’ began Grace. ‘ ‘ I had a 
talk with Miss Pierson when she was here about 
your going on the stage. She saw you at Vin- 
ton’s, and when I told her you had stage ambi- 
tions she said she was quite sure she could find 
work for you during the summer in a stock 
company. She will try to take you with 
her.” 

“Really!” Evelyn sprang to her feet, her 
blue eyes glittering with excitement. ‘ ‘ Oh, Miss 
Harlowe, if I could, if she would take me! I’d 
work so hard and pay every penny of every- 
thing I owe.” 

“But you don’t owe anything yet,” reminded 
Grace, smiling. 

Evelyn did not answer. It was doubtful 
whether she heard Grace’s last words. She 
stood perfectly still, a curious look on her beau- 
tiful face. Suddenly she said in a low, halting 
tone, “Miss Harlowe, if you knew how ” 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


183 


A knock on the door interrupted her speech. 
Without finishing, she stepped to it and turned 
the knob. Hello, Mary/’ she said indiffer- 
ently. 

‘‘Oh, Miss Harlowe, I didn’t know that you 
had come home,” cried Mary Reynolds. “We 
have all missed you dreadfully, haven’t we, 
Evel3m ? ’ ’ 

“Yes,” replied Evelyn in her usual indiffer- 
ent fashion. Then as Grace turned to go she 
said sweetly, “Thank you so much for your 
kindness to me. Miss Harlowe.” 

But Grace reflected disappointedly as she 
went slowly into her own room that Mary Rey- 
nolds ’ innocent interruption had occurred just 
in time to prevent the establishment with Eve- 
lyn of the very footing which she had been try- 
ing all year to gain. 


CHAPTER XVn 

A WEEK-END IN NEW YORK 

T rue to her promise Grace wrote to Ar- 
line Thayer that very evening concern- 
ing the sum of money which Evelyn 
wished to borrow, and three days later she 
opened a fat letter from the president of 


184 GRACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


Semper Eidelis from which fell the magic slip 
of paper which, for Evelyn, meant the way out 
of her difl&culties. Grace pounced with delight 
upon the letter and was soon deep in its con- 
tents. 

“We saw Anne as ‘Ophelia’ last Friday 
night,” Arline wrote. “After the play father 
gave a little supper for her at our house and 
invited the Southards, Mabel and Mr. Ashe, 
Elfreda, Miriam Nesbit and her brother. 
Miriam came to New York to visit and shop, 
and it is not hard to guess why her brother 
came with her. We were all so surprised to 
see her, and so delighted. She is staying with 
the Southards, and, Grace, I do believe Everett 
Southard is in love with her. It is hard to say 
whether she returns his love, for she doesn’t 
manifest the slightest sign of it. Wouldn’t it 
be splendid if they did decide to go through life 
together? He is so clever, and a great actor 
too. Mabel’s lawyer has won the most difficult 
case he ever fought for. He has persuaded 
Mabel to wear his ring. Their engagement is 
to be announced next week. I suppose you will 
hear from Mabel before many days. How I 
wish you were here. We all miss you so. Can’t 
you come to New York for a week end before 
Easter ? Ho try to arrange it. I have so many 
things to tell you. It would take an age to 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


185 


write them. Think it over and decide to come. 
With my dearest love, 

‘‘Akline/’ 

Grace finished the letter with a happy sigh. 
She would try to manage to run down to New 
York for a week end. She wondered how long 
Miriam intended to stay in the city and she 
smiled faintly over Arline’s comment regard- 
ing Miriam and Everett Southard. It was not 
news to her. Consulting the calendar that hung 
above the desk, she decided to go the first week 
in February, and began to plan her work ac- 
cordingly. 

In spite of her secret fears that everything 
was too perfect to last, not only was her va- 
ried household serene, but prospering as well. 
From the time the Harlowe House girls became 
a self-governing body the question of putting 
money in the treasury had been continually agi- 
tated. One way and another had been sug- 
gested, but it was not until the Christmas holi- 
days that the inspiration had come in the shape 
of a most toothsome batch of caramels which 
Louise Sampson had descended into the 
kitchen and made, one snowy, blustery evening 
when the club had assembled in the living- 
room for a social session. The caramels were a 
signal success, and when Cecil Ferris eyed one 


186 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


of the delicious brown squares lovingly before 
popping it into her mouth, then asked reflec- 
tively, ‘‘Why couldn’t we make caramels and 
sell them to the Overton girls?” the id^a was 
hailed with cries of “Great,” “A good ‘idea.” 
“We could easily sell pounds of them.” 

AVith one accord they had besieged Louise 
Sampson with curious questions as to how she 
had made the caramels and the cost of the in- 
gredients. Louise had laughingly refused to 
tell her recipe. 

After talking things over Louise had sworn 
Cecil, Mary Reynolds and one other girl to 
secrecy, imparted the precious recipe to them, 
and on the next Saturday afternoon they had 
made their first candy. A gay little poster, 
drawn by one of the girls, advertised their 
wares. It was tacked to one side of the college 
bulletin board, and by nine o’clock on Satur- 
day night the last caramel had gone its destined 
way, while the success-crowned merchants 
counted their money and lamented because they 
had not made half enough caramels. 

From then on, caramel-making occupied the 
spare moments of Louise and her faithful band 
and the “Harlowe House Caramels” rapidly 
gained favor. With her usual kindly interest 
in the success of others Grace, on her return 
from the Christmas holidays, entejred into^ the 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


187 


candy making with spirit and energy, doing 
much to help fill the rush of orders. Try as 
they might the caramel supply was always run- 
ning out, for the students found the delicious 
home-made caramels quite to their taste and 
they grew daily more popular. 

The Harlowe House girls were extremely 
proud of the growing fund in the treasury. One 
and all, with the exception of Evelyn Ward, 
they begged so earnestly to be initiated into the 
mysteries of caramel making that they were 
sworn to secrecy at a special meeting of the 
club and divided into caramel-making squads. 
It was also decided to make candy only twice a 
week, on Wednesday and Friday evenings, and 
set Thursday and Saturday as the days for sell- 
ing the caramels, which were put up in neat 
half-pound and pound boxes. 

But while this little enterprise was being car- 
ried on with a will Evelyn was merely an in- 
different onlooker. True she belonged to one 
squad of the candy makers, but she usually 
managed to be absent when they worked. Ap- 
parently she was not interested in the financial 
affairs of the Harlowe House Club. For a week 
or more after the check from Semper Fidelis 
had been handed to her she had maintained 
toward Grace an attitude of sweet gratitude, 
too flattering to be wholly sincere. It had grad- 


188 GRACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


ually disappeared, however, and the old Evelyn 
had come to the surface again. Although she 
was now careful not to offend openly, Grace 
felt that underneath the thin veneer of reluc- 
tant gratitude lay the old dislike which she was 
sure Evelyn felt for her. In spite of her ef- 
forts to judge this strange selfish girl dispas- 
sionately Grace knew in her heart that she still 
disapproved of Evelyn. 

The first week in February found Grace look- 
ing forward to her week end in New York City. 
She had arranged to leave Overton on Friday 
at noon, and on Friday morning she opened her 
eyes with that feeling of exultation over some- 
thing delightful just around the corner from 
her. Then she remembered. In a few hours 
she would again be with her beloved friends. 
She went about her work that morning hum- 
ming under her breath. As she was to take the 
eleven-thirty train she had said a regretful 
good-bye to Emma before the latter went to 
her classes. ‘ ‘ How I wish you were going with 
me, Emma,’’ she had sighed. Emma’s eyes had 
grown wistful for an instant, then she had 
launched forth into a multitude of pompous 
and wholly ridiculous reasons why her presence 
was needed at Harlowe House that made Grace 
laugh, and, for the time, banished the shadow 
from her face. 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


189 


Later as she climbed into the taxicab that was 
to take her to the station, Emma’s face, with 
its funny little twisted smile, rose before her, 
and she experienced fresh regret at leaving her 
behind. It was hardly fair that she should 
have so much and Emma so little. How bravely 
Emma had stepped into the breach made by 
her father’s sudden reverse of fortune. So 
deep was Grace in her own thoughts that she 
did not realize that they had reached the station 
until the car came to a sudden stop and the 
driver stood holding open the door. Handing 
him her suit case and traveling bag Grace 
stepped out of the car, and tendering the man 
her fare, gathered up her luggage and headed 
for the station. Seating herself on one of the 
wooden benches inside the station, she placed 
her traveling effects on the floor beside her and 
compared her watch with the station clock. 
Then she rose and going to the ticket window, 
which had just opened, purchased her ticket and 
inquired as to whether the train were on time. 

‘‘Fifteen minutes late,” was the brief reply. 

Grace went back to her bench, and, seating 
herself, opened a magazine she had brought 
with her. She was turning the leaves inter- 
estedly when a sudden banging of the station 
door caused her to glance up. Here eyes were 
riveted in surprise upon Evelyn Ward, who, 


190 GEACE HAELOWE’S EETUEN 


suit case in hand, hurried over to her with, 
‘^Oh, Miss Harlowe, I wonder if yon would 
mind my going to New York with yon. I am 
invited to Althea Parker’s for the week end, 
but she had to go down last night. I tried to 
see yon at Harlowe House, but yon had already 
gone. I would have spoken to yon last night 
about going, but I wasn’t quite sure whether I 
could make it or not.” Evelyn’s tones were 
far from concerned. 

‘‘You are quite welcome to ride with me,” re- 
turned Grace briefly. She hardly liked the sit- 
uation, yet she made it a rule not to interfere 
with the amusements of the Harlowe House 
girls. When she had lived at Wayne Hall Mrs. 
Elwood had never questioned the comings and 
goings of her girls. Still Grace was not pleased 
with Evelyn’s careless manner of passing over 
her evident intention to go without even in- 
forming Grace of her departure. 

Once on the train the two kept up a desultory 
conversation. But little sympathy existed 
between them, and the situation grew mo- 
mentarily more strained. Grace caught Eve- 
lyn taking sly peeps at the magazine which she 
still held. With her usual good nature, Grace 
hailed the boy who passed through the train 
with magazines and candy and bought another 
magazine. 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


191 


“There is an article in this number which 
Miss Dean says is worth reading/’ she ex- 
plained. “Keep my magazine if you like, and 
I’ll read this.” 

For the next two hours not a word was ex- 
changed. The two girls read on and on. As 
the afternoon began to wane Evelyn finished 
her magazine, took o:ff her hat, and, leaning her 
head against the high green velvet back of the 
seat, closed her eyes. At last Grace laid aside 
her reading, and idly watched, with half 
dreaming eyes, the fleeting landscape. Occa- 
sionally her gaze wandered, in unwilling admi- 
ration, to Evelyn’s lovely, tranquil face. Why 
was such great beauty coupled with such tanta- 
lizing perversity of spirit? v/as the thought 
that sprang unbidden to her mind. 

It was long after dark when the two young 
women passed through the iron gates of the 
station to where their friends awaited them. 
Anne, David, Miriam and Arline stood eagerly 
watching for Grace. At almost the same mo- 
ment Evelyn spied Althea. On seeing Evelyn’s 
companions, Althea hurried forward in time to 
receive the much-coveted introduction to Ar- 
line Thayer, Anne and the Nesbits. After a 
brief exchange of courtesies Grace’s friends 
bowed themselves olf, gleefully escorting Grace 
to David’s car. 


192 GRACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


Althea stared moodily after them. “I think 
they are awfully snobbish/’ she remarked re- 
sentfully. “How did you manage to get away, 
Evelyn ? ’ ’ 

“Don’t ask me,” Evelyn made a gesture of 
deprecation. “All I hope is that I’m not 
found out. I’m glad I overheard Miss Harlowe 
talking last night about going to-day. If worse 
comes to worst, I’ll say I came down here with 
her.” 

“But what if she denies it?” 

Evelyn shrugged her shoulders. “Ten 
chances to one I shall not be missed, but if there 
is any trouble I’ll appeal to her generosity of 
spirit to help me. She pretends to be so help- 
ful, let her demonstrate her helpfulness by 
standing between me and Miss Sheldon.” 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


193 


CHAPTER XVIII 

A HUMILIATING REPRIMAND 

T O GRACE forty-eight hours with her 
chums seemed hardly longer than forty- 
eight minutes, and she found it an ex- 
ceedingly difficult task to divide her time 
equally among them. She went directly to the 
Southards for dinner, and to the theater that 
night with David, Miriam and Miss Southard 
to see Everett Southard and Anne as the ill- 
fated king and queen in ‘‘Macbeth.’’ To her 
delight she discovered that the opposite box 
held Elfreda, Arline, Ruth, Mabel Ashe, Mr. 
Ashe and Mr. Thayer, and after the play they 
were Mr. Ashe’s guests at supper. 

On Saturday the devoted little band gath- 
ered at Arline ’s home at nine o’clock in the 
morning, determined to crowd every possible 
hit of pleasure into the hours that were theirs. 
On Sunday it was Mabel Ashe who played 
hostess, and on Sunday night a goodly company 
saw Grace to the station and safely on her way. 

It was eleven o’clock when she let herself 
into Harlowe House, and hurried upstairs, 
anxious to relax and be comfortable after her 
long ride. As she had expected, on opening the 

13 — Grace Harlowe* s Return to Overton Campus. 


194 GRACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


door of her room, she saw Emma, her tall, thin 
figure wrapped in the folds of a gay crepe 
kimono, seated before the table, industriously 
looking over, and marking, themes. 

Hello, Gracious,’’ she caroled amiably, lay- 
ing down the sheet of paper she held in her 
hand and making a quick dive for Grace. 
began to thing you weren’t coming home to- 
night. How are you, and how is everybody? In 
spite of being fairly swamped with themes, I 
managed to arise in my might and make cocoa. 
It’s in the chocolate pot and there are some 
extra fine Dean-made sandwiches to match. 
Now say, ‘Emma, you are one in a million, and 
a cook besides.’ Give me your coat and hat. 
Your kimono and slippers await you.” 

“What a dear you are, Emma,” declared 
Grace, as she handed her wraps to Emma and 
began to unhook her skirt. “How I wish you 
had been vfith us. The girls were so sorry you 
couldn’t come. Elfreda says she is going to 
descend upon you some Friday and carry you 
off for a week end, regardless of howls and 
protests.” 

Emma’s expressive face lighted with whim- 
sical tenderness, “J. Elfreda never forgets, 
does she? Here’s your cocoa, Grace. Help 
yourself to sandwiches.” 

Seating themselves opposite each other at the 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


195 


oak center table, the plate of sandwiches and 
the chocolate pot between them, the two young 
women settled themselves for a talk which 
lasted until after midnight. 

^‘We are setting a fearful example for our 
girls, ’ ’ remarked Grace yawning, as they finally 
arose to prepare for bed. I hope we haven’t 
disturbed Miss Ward. I haven’t heard a 
sound from her room. She must be asleep. I 
wonder when she came back. ’ ’ 

‘‘Came back from where?” asked Emma. 

“From New York City. She took the same 
train that I took and sat with me all the way 
there. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ She did ! ’ ’ exclaimed Emma. ‘ ‘ That doesn ’t 
tally with what I heard in the registrar’s office 
Friday afternoon. I’m afraid she didn’t ask 
permission to go, Grace.” 

“Oh, she must have had permission!” A 
look of surprise, mingled with consternation, 
sprang into Grace’s eyes. 

“Did she tell you she had the joyful sanction 
of the registrar?” quizzed Emma. 

“No-o. She made a half apology for not tell- 
ing me that she was going to New York. She 
said she was not sure of going until the last 
minute. I supposed, of course, that she had 
permission. Why will she persist in disobeying 
the rules of the college?” asked Grace despair- 


196 GEACE HAELOWE’S EETUEN 


ingly. ‘‘What was said in the registrar’s office, | 
Emma, or aren’t yon at liberty to tell me ? ” I 

“Of course I am, otherwise I wouldn’t have ! 
mentioned it, ’ ’ declared Emma. ‘ ‘ Friday after- j 
noon I went over to Overton Hall to see Miss jj 
Sheldon. Just as I stepped into her office I met ^ 

Evelyn coming out looking like a young thun- I 

der cloud. I wondered what had happened to 2 
upset her sweet, even disposition,” Emma’s 
tones were distinctly ironical, “and without 
asking any questions I soon found out. Miss 
Sheldon herself looked anything but pleased 
and said: ‘That Miss Ward is the most insolent 
girl with whom I have ever come in contact. 

I refused to allow her to go to New York City 
for the week end and she made some extremely 
impertinent remarks to me. She has a condi- 
tion to work off. I felt justified in refusing 
her.’ ” 

“And she disregarded that refusal and 
went?” questioned Grace wonderingly. “We 
would never have dreamed of defying the regis- 
trar, would we, Emma?” 

“Hardly,” returned Emma. “Even Laura 
Atkins in her most anarchistic moods, or Kath- 
leen West with all her thorns set, would have 
stopped short of that. I hope the high and 
mighty Evelyn won’t try to drag you into this 
affair.,’ ’ 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


197 


‘‘How can sheU’ demanded Grace. “I had 
nothing to do with it.’’ 

“Yes, bnt yon rode down to New York City 
on the same train and in the same seat with 
her. She is qnite likely to tell the registrar 
that yon conntenanced her going even thongh 
Miss Sheldon didn’t.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, she conldn ’t ! ” bnrst forth Grace. 

“Why conldn ’t she?” demanded Emma. 

Grace shook her head. 

“I think yon are a trifle hard on her, Emma. 
I know she is selfish, bnt I don’t believe she is 
malicions. ’ ’ 

“I wish I had yonr faith in people, Grace,” 
said Emma sincerely. “Yon always believe 
them honest nntil they prove themselves vil- 
lains, don’t yon?” 

When the next afternoon, Grace received a 
cnrt note from Miss Sheldon asking her to come 
to her office at five o’clock, Emma’s prophesy 
loomed large before her. 

“It mnst be something else,” reflected the 
tronbled honse mother, as she prepared for her 
call on Miss Sheldon. Once in the registrar’s 
office, a qnick glance at the older woman’s face, 
set in lines of annoyance, was enongh to con- 
vince Grace that Emma’s conjectnre had been 
only too trne. Evelyn had in some way man- 
aged to make her a party to her disobedience. 


198 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


‘‘Good afternoon, Miss Harlowe,’’ said Miss 
Sheldon stiffly. There was no trace of her nsual 
friendly manner. “I sent for yon this after- 
noon for the purpose of clearing up any misun- 
derstanding you may have in regard to your 
authority here at Overton. The students in the 
various houses are in every instance subject to 
the rules of Overton College, and it is the pur- 
pose of the faculty to see that these rules are 
enforced. You have no authority to grant a 
student leave of absence, particularly after that 
permission has been refused by me. ’ ^ 

Then there followed a further sharp repri- 
mand to which Grace listened gravely, her calm, 
gray eyes never for an instant leaving Miss 
Sheldon’s face. Something in the younger 
woman’s composure had its effect upon the 
registrar, who, on first seeing Grace, had al- 
lowed her displeasure free rein. She looked 
searchingly into the quiet face before her and 
said more gently, “Perhaps I should have 
asked you to tell me your side of the story, be- 
fore condemning you. Miss Harlowe.” 

Ah, so there was another side of the story! 
It was apparently as Emma had said. 

Tears of hurt pride burned behind Grace’s 
eyes, but they never fell. With a brave effort 
she steadied her voice. “I do not know what 
has been said to you. Miss Sheldon, but I do 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


199 


know that I have never given any girl at Har- 
lowe House leave of absence from Overton. I 
would not presume to do so. I hope I under- 
stand the limit of my authority too clearly to 
overstep it.” 

‘‘Then you did not take Miss Ward with you 
to New York City last Friday afternoon?” 

“Miss Ward was with me on the train and 
shared my seat, but until I met her in the sta- 
tion I had not the remotest idea that she in- 
tended to go. I dislike to tell you this, Miss 
Sheldon, but since you have asked me this ques- 
tion I can only tell you the truth.” 

“I am sorry I spoke so hastily. Miss Har- 
lowe,” apologized Miss Sheldon, “but I was 
greatly displeased. I have sent for Miss Ward. 
Will you wait until she comes? You need not 
unless you wish to do so.” 

“Thank you,” said Grace, a shade of of- 
fended dignity in her voice, “but I must go 
back to Harlowe House. It is almost dinner 
time. Good evening. Miss Sheldon.” 

Once outside Overton Hall her composure 
took wings and she brushed the thick-gathering 
tears from her eyes as she hurried blindly' 
across the snow-covered campus in the gray 
twilight. She was still smarting under the hurt 
of the registrar’s sharp words. It was un- 
speakably humiliating to be told that she had 


200 GEACE HAELOWE’S EETUEN 


overstepped her authority. She had thought 
that Miss Sheldon knew her too well for that. 
It merely served to show how little one knew^ 
persons, she reflected bitterly. As for Evelyn, 
the angry color dyed Grace ^s cheeks afresh as 
she thought of the girl’s treachery, and she 
made a resentful- vow that Evelyn Ward should 
not be admitted to Harlowe House for her 
sopohomore year. 

The brisk walk across the campus in the 
crisp winter air cooled her anger, and by the 
time she had reached the house she felt her re- 
sentment, in a measure, vanishing. 

‘‘You were right, Emma,” she announced as 
she walked into their room where Emma sat 
plodding laboriously through her weekly mend- 
ing. 

“About Evelyn?” 

“Yes.” 

Emma finished the sleeve of the blouse she 
was mending with a flourish. Then, casting a 
swift, upward glance at Grace, she began sing- 
^ ing dolorously. 

“Mend, mend, mend. 

On the waist that’s weary and worn. 
Stitch, stitch, stitch. 

Each tatter so jagged and torn. 

Collar and cuffs and sleeves. 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


201 


Cobble and darn and baste, 

Before they gape in a ghastly row, 

And shriek the dirge of the waist. ’ ^ 

Grace ’s gloomy expression changed to a faint 
smile which broadened as Emma’s chant went 
on. At the end of the verse she langhed out- 
right. 

‘‘I couldn’t be sad for long with you about, 
Emma,” she said affectionately. ‘‘How can 
you think of such funny things on the spur of 
the moment ? ’ ’ 

“Oh, I don’t know,” drawled Emma. “Tell 
me about everything. Gracious.” 

“I Avill,” nodded Grace, “but I must run 
downstairs to the kitchen for a minute. I’ll be 
back directly. ’ ’ 

It was fifteen minutes before she returned. 
Emma had finished her mending and was on 
her knees before the chiffonier putting her 
waists away. 

“Now I’ll tell you,” began Grace. 

Emma turned her head to listen, but before 
Grace had time to begin the door was flung vio- 
lently open and Evelyn Ward rushed in, her 
blue eyes bright with anger. “How could you 
tell Miss Sheldon that I didn’t go to New York 
with you? You could have helped me and she 
wouldn’t have said a word to Miss Wilder. 


202 GRACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


Now I shall be expelled from college and it is 

all yonr fault. You are 

At this juncture, however, Emma Dean took a 
hand. Without giving Grace an opportunity to 
say a word she marched over to the excited 
Evelyn. ‘‘Miss Ward, leave this room in- 
stantly, and do not come into it again until you 
have asked Miss Harlowe to pardon you.” 

In contrast to Evelyn’s half-screamed de- 
nunciation Emma’s voice was low and even, but 
it vibrated with stern command. 

“I — she ” began Evelyn, but the look in 

Emma’s eyes was too much for her. With a 
half-sobbing cry of anger she rushed from the 
room. 


CHAPTER XIX 

AIT UITINTEITTIONAL LISTENER 

<‘T"^ELIGHTFUL young person,” com- 
I S mented Emma dryly, as the resound- 
ing slam of the door echoed through 
the room. 

Grace walked slowly over to the chair which 
she had been occupying when Evelyn had made 
her tempestuous entrance, and sat down. 
There was a brief silence, then, “Do you sup- 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


203 


pose Miss Wilder will send Evelyn homeU^ 

‘‘Grace, yon aren’t going to try to intercede 
for that hateful girl after tliis,” Emma’s tones 
quivered with vexation. 

“I don’t Imow. I suppose H wouldn’t be of 
much use. Miss Wilder won’t tolerate out and 
out disobedience. I — ^yes, Emma, I’m going to 
see if I can save her. I’m going now.” 

Grace sprang from her chair and began slip- 
ping into her wraps. 

Emma eyed her moodily, struggling between 
approval and disapproval, but saying nothing. 

“Good-bye, dear,” called Grace over her 
shoulder as she hurried out the door. “I’m 
afraid I’ll be late for dinner. Don’t wait for 
me.” 

Outside the house she paused, glanced toward 
Overton Hall, then set off in the opposite direc- 
tion toward Miss Wilder’s home. 

“I hope she’s at home,” was Grace ^s anxious 
thought as she rang the belL 

“Miss Wilder’s in the library, miss. I’ll call 
her, ’ ’ informed the maid. ‘ ‘ Come in. It ’s Miss 
Harlowe wants to see her, isn’t it?” 

“Yes,” Grace smiled in pleasant apprecia- 
tion of the maid’s remembrance of her. 

“Good evening. Miss Harlowe.” Miss Wil- 
der rose to greet her unexpected visitor and 
offered her a chair. 


204 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


Grace returned the greeting, then seated her- 
self directly opposite the dean. 

‘ ‘ Miss Wilder, I came to see you, ’ ’ she burst 
forth, “to ask you if there is — if you could give 
Miss Ward another chance. She came to me 
to-night and said that she was to be sent home 
for what happened last Saturday. I am sorry 
that she has put herself in such an unpleasant 
position, but I am more sorry still for her sis- 
ter, who has made so many sacrifices to give 
her a college education. I never told you much 
about Miss Ward, Miss Wilder. Let me tell 
you now.^’ 

Miss Wilder listened attentively to Grace’s 
eager outpouring. 

“Miss Ward’s case has not yet been settled,” 
she said slowly. “It rests with me whether she 
shall remain at Overton. I will think over what 
you have told me. I am not prepared to give 
you an answer now. Come to my office at four 
o’clock to-morrow afternoon and bring Miss 
Ward with you.” 

‘ ‘ Thank you, Miss Wilder. Good night. ’ ’ 

Feeling that there was nothing more to be 
said, Grace rose and held out her hand to the 
dean. The older woman took the hand in both 
of hers and looked deep into Grace’s honest 
eyes. 

“You are a true house mother,” she said 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


205 


gently. know something of how greatly 
Miss Ward has tried your patience, and if I do 
decide to give her an opportunity to begin over 
again it will be largely because you have asked 
me.’’ 

When Grace let herself into Harlowe House 
a little later a hasty glance into the dining- 
room revealed the fact that dinner was over. 
‘‘I’ll come down and get mine after awhile,” 
she decided, and ran upstairs to her own 
room. 

“Well?” inquired Emma as Grace entered. 

“Pretty well,” retorted Grace. “I won’t 
know positively until to-morrow. Is Miss Ward 
in her room?” 

‘ ‘ She is, ’ ’ stated Emma, ‘ ‘ and, judging from 
the sounds, packing is in full swing. I have 
heard her trunk lid banging frequently and 
wickedly, and she is opening and shutting the 
drawers of her chitfonier in an anything but 
gentle manner.” 

“I must see her,” declared Grace. 

“Then prepare to be greeted with an icy 
blast,” predicted Emma. 

The next moment found Grace knocking on 
Evelyn’s door. 

There was a rush of steps, the door was 
flung open and Evelyn faced her, white and 
defiant. 


206 GEACE HAELOWE^S EETUEN 


‘ ‘ Miss Wilder wishes you to be in her office at \ 
four o ’clock to-morrow afternoon. It will be to , 
your interest to do as she requests,” stated 
Grace briefly. Without giving Evelyn an op- 
portunity for speech she turned and walked 
down the hall to her room. 

‘‘Back so soon and no bones broken,” com- 
mented Emma. 

Grace laughed a little in spite of herself. 
“Eeally, Emma, this is a serious matter,” she 
declared. “I’m not at all sure that Miss Wil- 
der will give Miss Ward another chance.” 

“Don’t think about it and she will. Worry 
over it and you’ll defeat your own hope. Think 
about your dinner instead. It’s downstairs 
keeping hot for you. I ’ll go down with you and 
entertain you while you eat. I have a letter 
from Elf reda which I ’ve been keeping as a sur- 
prise. There is something in it that you will be 
glad to know.” 

The “something” was Elf reda ’s announce- 
ment that Miriam had invited her to go to Oak- 
dale for the Easter holidays. 

“That settles it, Emma, you simply must 
come home with me !” exclaimed Grace. “You 
know you delight in J. Elf reda.” 

“I do, I do,” solemnly agreed Emma. “I’ll 
think it over. Gracious, and if my finances can 
be stretched to cover my railroad fare I’ll be 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


207 


^wid yezP But who will look after the Harlow- 
ites if I fold my tents like the Arabs and set 
sail for Oakdale U’ 

‘ ‘ I don T know yet. Louise Sampson, perhaps. 
She is so capable and the girls not only like her 
but respect her as well. I must talk with her 
first. She may not wish to assume the re- 
sponsibility. Then again she may have other 
Easter plans. We shall manage, somehow, to 
arrange things satisfactorily.^’ 

Louise Sampson had no definite Easter plans, 
so she said, when Grace broached the subject to 
her the following day. With never-failing 
good-nature she readily agreed to take charge 
of Harlowe House during the absence of Grace 
and Emma, provided Grace felt confident that 
she was able to measure up to her responsi- 
bility. 

‘H’m so thankful that’s arranged,” sighed 
Grace as Louise left her office after luncheon 
to return to her classes. wish some other 
things could be as easily disposed of.” 

As she dressed that afternoon to go to Miss 
Wilder’s office she was far from joyous. She 
disliked the idea of meeting Evelyn in the 
dean’s office. She was confident that Miss Wil- 
der would state frankly to Evelyn why she had 
been spared. 

Her conjecture was only too well grounded. 


208 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


When Evelyn appeared in the dean^s office at 
precisely four o’clock, half anxious, half defi- 
ant, Miss Wilder read her a lecture, the cutting 
severity of which caused Evelyn to flush and 
pale with humiliation and anger. ‘ ‘ Remember, 
Miss Ward,” she emphasized, ‘Gt is solely due 
to Miss Harlowe’s intercession in your behalf 
that I have decided to allow you to remain at 
Overton.” 

‘‘Oh, dear, I hope she isn’t going to make 
Evel^m apologize to me, ’ ’ was Grace ’s thought. 
“Why did Miss Wilder ask me to come here 
to-day?” 

As if in answer to her unspoken question. 
Miss Wilder went on to say, “Miss Harlowe 
came to me last night and asked me not to send 
you home. I requested her to be present to-day 
to hear what I wished to say to you. I trust. 
Miss Ward, that, hereafter, you will see fit to 
observe the rules of Overton College and live 
up to them, as a second infringement of this 
nature will mean instant dismissal from Over- 
ton. That is all, I believe.” 

Thus dismissed Evelyn left the room without 
a word. 

Grace lingered for a moment’s conversation 
with Miss Wilder, then left the office and 
started across the campus for Harlowe House. 
Half way there she glanced at her watch. It 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


209 


was not yet five o'clock. She would have time 
to do a little shopping before dinner. Turning 
her steps in the opposite direction she was soon 
hurrying along Overton's main business thor- 
oughfare. 

It was ten minutes to six when, her shopping 
done, she came within sight of Harlowe House. 
She wondered if Evelyn were at home. Of late 
she had been more intimate than ever with Al- 
thea Parker. As Grace walked into the house 
and slowly up the stairs the pale face of Ida 
Ward rose before her. She was glad that she 
had been able to avert the disastrous conse- 
quences of Evelyn's disobedience so that Eve- 
lyn alone should suffer. 

Entering her room she took off her wraps 
and began rearranging her hair preparatory to 
going downstairs to dinner. The sound of foot- 
steps in the hall, the opening of Evelyn's door, 
then Evelyn's voice declaring excitedly, ^‘You 
can do it if you want to," caused Grace to lay 
down her brush and involuntarily listen for a 
reply. 

It came, and in Mary Eeynolds' distressed 
tones. ^‘Oh, really, I couldn't, Evelyn. Please, 
please don't ask me." 

“You must," Evelyn's command broke forth 
sharply. 

“I won't," Mary refusal gathered strength. 

14 — Grace Harlowe* s Return to Overton Campus, 


210 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


^‘Yon have no right to ask me and I have no 
right to do it. ’ ’ 

‘‘Then you are not my friend if you donT do 
as I ask, ’ ’ flung back Evelyn, ‘ ‘ and I shall never 
speak to you again. Please go away and don’t 
ever come to this room again.” 

“I am your friend,” quivered Mary, “that’s 
why I refuse to do something which will surely 
make trouble for you.” 

“How can it make trouble for me?” de- 
manded Evelyn. “You know as well as I ” 

But Grace, coming to a sudden realization 
that she was listening to something not in- 
tended for her ears, sprang from her seat be- 
fore her dressing-table and went downstairs, 
wondering not a little what it all meant. 


CHAPTER XX 

A DOUBLE PUZZLE 

M ary Reynolds slipped into her 

place at dinner that night with red eye- 
lids and a woe-begone expression on 
her small face. Evelyn did not enter the din- 
ing-room until after the others had began their 
meal. Despite the air of careless indifference 
with which she took her seat, Grace fancied she 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


211 


saw a gleam of anxiety in her eyes. Prom the 
few words she had overheard she understood 
not only the meaning of Mary’s dejection, but 
also of Evelyn’s anxious look. But what was it 
that Evelyn had required of Mary and that 
Mary had bluntly refused to do f Suppose Eve- 
lyn had involved herself in some fresh diffi- 
culty. To Grace the thought was distinctly dis- 
turbing. Still she felt that it was not within her 
province to interfere. After all it might be 
nothing of vital importance, merely a girls ’ dis- 
agreement. 

Resolutely dismissing the matter from her 
mind, Grace thought no more of it. That even- 
ing Evelyn came to her as she sat reading in 
the living room and, in her most distant man- 
ner, notified Grace that she intended to go to 
the dance to be given by the Gamma Kappa 
Phi, a Willston fraternity, at their fraternity 
house. Miss Hilton, a member of the Overton 
faculty, would chaperon her. There were four 
other freshmen besides herself invited. 

Grace made no objection to Evelyn’s an- 
nouncement. After the severe reprimand she 
had received it was hardly probable that Eve- 
lyn would again misrepresent matters. Quite 
by accident the next day she encountered Miss 
Hilton upon the campus, and the teacher con- 
firmed Evelyn’s story by mentioning the dance 


212 GEACE HAELOWE’S EETUEN 


and inquiring if Grace had been asked to do 
chaperon duty. am surprised that you 

weren%’’ had been Miss Hilton’s comment 
when Grace answered that her services had not 
been solicited. 

Grace had smiled to herself as she went on 
her way. She was not in the least surprised at 
not being invited by Evel^m to play chaperon. 
She was glad that she had not been asked. She 
decided that she would not have accepted. The 
dance was to be held on the Friday evening of 
the following week, and on the Saturday morn- 
ing after she would be on her way to Oakdale. 

How long and yet how short the days seemed 
that lay between her and home. Long because 
of her impatience to see her father and mother, 
short because of the multifold details to be at- 
tended to in Harlowe House. 

‘H’m so tired,” she sighed when, at seven 
o’clock on Friday evening, she saw her trunk 
and Emma’s safely in the hands of the express- 
man. ‘‘Thank goodness our packing is done 
and gone and out of the way. Let’s do recrea- 
tion stunts to-night, Emma. Suppose we call 
upon Kathleen and Patience. Incidentally we 
can pay our respects to Laura Atkins and Mil- 
dred Taylor. If they aren’t busy we might 
have a quiet celebration just for auld lang syne 
at Vinton’s. We can be home by ten o’clock.” 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


213 


‘‘All right/’ agreed Emma, who knelt on the 
floor, her glasses pushed above her forehead, 
wrestling valiantly with a refractory strap of 
her suit case. A moment and she had buckled 
it into place with a triumphant cluck. ‘ ‘ There, 
that won’t have to be done at the last minute. 
Shall I telephone the girls that we are coming ? 
It’s after seven now.” 

“Yes, do.” 

Emma left the room returning shortly. 

“They are all at home. The sooner we reach 
Wayne Hall the sooner the celebration will be- 
gin,” she reminded. 

“Then we’ll go at once.” 

Five minutes later the two young women 
were on their way across the campus. As they 
neared Wayne Hall a limousine passed contain- 
ing Miss Hilton, Althea Parker and a freshman 
friend of Evelyn’s. Althea was driving. She 
bowed curtly to Grace and Emma as her car 
whizzed by them. 

“They are going for Evelyn, I suppose,” 
commented Emma. 

“Yes. Oh, bother ! ’ ’ exclaimed Grace, “ I ’ve 
forgotten a letter to Arline which I must 
mail to-night. Will you wait until I go back 
for it?” 

With light feet Grace sped across the campus, 
letting herself into the house with her latch key. 


214 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


As she stepped into the hall, a buzz of voices 
caused her eyes to be fixed on the living-room,. 
Through the parted curtains she saw a dazzling 
figure which was standing in the middle of the 
living room, surrounded by a group of admir- 
ing girls. 

It was Evelyn, looking like some wonderful 
fairy vision in a gown of apricot satin and 
chiffon, embroidered with exquisite little 
sprays of tiny rosebuds. The excitement of 
wholesale admiration had deepened the blue of 
her eyes to violet and her usual expression of 
bored indifference had changed to one of in- 
tense animation, due to her love of adulation. 
Grace watched her fascinatedly for a moment, 
then, remembering that Emma was waiting for 
her, she hurried on upstairs for her letter and 
out of the house, unobserved by the group of 
girls in the living room. 

‘‘Was I gone long!’’ she asked as she re- 
joined her friend. “I stopped for a minute in 
the hall to look at Evelyn Ward. She was pos- 
ing in the middle of the living room for the 
benefit of an admiring populace. She is going 
to the Gamma Kappa Phi dance. Miss Hilton 
and Miss Parker and some of our girls com- 
posed the populace. I suppose I ought to have 
gone in and spoken to them instead of slipping 
out like a criminal, but I didn’t wish to lose 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


215 


time. Really, Emma, I can’t begin to tell you 
bow beautiful Evelyn looked ! ’ ’ 

‘‘Her white silk evening gown is a work of 
art. I wish I had a sister Ida to sew for me,” 
commented Emma. 

‘ ‘ Oh, she wasn’t wearing her white silk. Her 

gown was apricot satin and ” Grace came 

to an abrupt stop. “Why — she — that was a 
new gown. How could she ” 

“Have a new gown when her sister is too ill 
to make it,” supplemented Emma dryly. 

Two pairs of eyes exchanged questioning 
glances. 

‘ ‘ She may have brought it with her when she 
came to Overton,” said Grace. “She is very 
secretive, you know. All along she may have 
been saving it for some such occasion as this 
dance. ’ ’ 

“True enough,” admitted Emma. “Always 
take people at their face value until you find 
they haven ’t any, ’ ’ she added cheerfully. 

“I shall,” declared Grace. “I’m not going 
to spoil my Easter vacation by worrying over 
something that is really Evelyn’s own affair.” 


216 GEACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


CHAPTER XXI 

THE PUZZLE DEEPENS 

G race "experienced a pleasure in being 
at home for Easter so deep as to be akin 
to pain. When as a student at Overton 
she had traveled happily home for her Christ- 
mas and Easter vacations there had been a dif- 
ference. Then, her classmates had much to do 
with making it easier to be away from her 
adored father and mother. But now that she 
had bravely launched her boat on the tempestu- 
ous sea of work, she found that home was a far 
distant shore, for whose cheery lights she often 
yearned. To be sure Emma was a never-failing 
source of consolation, but there were more 
times than one when the clutching fingers of 
homesickness were at her throat. 

To Mr. and Mrs. Harlowe, Emma Dean was 
an unfailing source of amusement and delight. 
In Hippy, too, she found a kindred spirit, and 
when Elfreda arrived the funny trio was com- 
plete. It seemed to Grace that she had not 
laughed so much in years. Anne, Jessica and 
Reddy had not been able to join their friends 
for the Easter holidays and were loudly 
mourned and sorely missed. Tom Gray man- 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


217 


aged to come on for a two days’ visit and cause 
Grace the only unhappy moments she spent at 
home by again asking her to give up her be- 
loved work to marry him. 

‘‘I’m so sorry for Tom,” she confided to her 
mother, on the night before leaving home to re- 
turn to Overton, “but I can’t give up my work, 
even for him. Eeally and truly, mother, I wish 
I did love Tom in the way he wants me to love 
him, but I don’t. I feel toward him just as I 
felt when I first met him. He’s a good com- 
rade; nothing more.” 

“If you loved Tom, your father and I would 
be glad to welcome him as our son, Grace,” was 
her mother ’s quiet reply. ‘ ‘ He is a remarkably 
fine type of young man, but unless you reach 
the point where you are certain that he is, and 
always will be, the one man in the world for you, 
you would be doing not only yourself but him 
too, the greatest possible injury if you prom- 
ised to marry him.” 

“That is just it!” exclaimed Grace. “I told 
him so, but I know that didn’t console him. 
Last June when I came home from Overton I 
thought perhaps I might say ‘yes’ later on. 
But now that I’ve been working for almost a 
year I find I’d rather keep on working. It 
would be dreadful, of course, if some day I 
should suddenly discover that I did love him 


218 GRACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


enough to marry him and then he shouldnT ask 
me. That isnT likely to happen. I donT be- 
lieve I could give up my work for any man. My 
whole heart is in it. ’ ’ 

In spite of her declaration of unswerving loy- 
alty to her work, more than once, Tom’s fine 
resolute face rose before Grace on the return 
journey to Overton. During the afternoon 
Emma, usually loquacious, became absorbed in 
a book, so that Grace, who could not settle her- 
self to read, had altogether too much oppor- 
tunity for reflection. 

She was inwardly thankful when the lights of 
Overton twinkled into view. Emma was still 
deep in her book. ‘‘We are almost there, 
Emma,” she reminded. 

Emma glanced out of the window, then closed 
her book and began to gather up her belong- 
ings. 

“I wonder how things are at Harlowe 
House,” mused Grace, as they crossed the sta- 
tion platform. “Come on, Emma. There’s a 
taxicab just turning into the station driveway.” 

Three minutes later they were speeding 
through the silent streets. It was after nine 
o’clock and there were few persons passing. 

“No place like home,” caroled Emma as they 
let themselves into Harlowe House. In the liv- 
ing-room they found Louise Sampson and 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


219 


half a dozen girls. At sight of Grace and 
Emma, Louise came quickly forward. 

‘‘We thought you would come!’’ she ex- 
claimed, “so we decided to watch for you. We 
have hot chocolate and sandwiches. Do say 
you’re hungry.” 

“We are ravenous,” assured Emma, “and 
as soon as we make a trip upstairs and dis- 
possess ourselves of our goods and chattels 
we’ll come to the party.” 

“Everything has gone beautifully,” Louise 
confided to Grace, when later she dropped down 
on the window seat beside her, where the latter 
had established herself with a sandwich and a 
cup of chocolate. ‘ ‘ Only one thing bothered me, 
and that was the way Miss Reynolds moped. 
She and Miss Ward had a quarrel and poor 
Miss Reynolds still goes about looking like a 
red-eyed little ghost. No one can find out her 
trouble and no one seems to be able to comfort 
her. One day last week I almost thought I saw 
Miss Ward crying too, but I must have been 
mistaken. She is too proud to cry over any- 
thing. There are several letters for you. Miss 
Harlowe. I put them in the top drawer of your 
desk in the office.” 

At the word “letters” Grace had risen to her 
feet. “You’ll excuse me if I go for them at 
once, won’t you?” she asked. 


220 GEACE HAELOWE^S EETUEN 


course/’ smiled Louise. 

A goodly pile of letters met her eyes as she 
opened the drawer. Grace ran through the en- 
velopes with eager fingers. The square thin 
envelope with the foreign postmark meant a 
letter from Eleanor Savelli. There was one 
from Mabel Ashe and another from Mabel Alli- 
son, Arline Thayer and Euth Denton were also 
represented in the collection and on the very 
bottom of the pile lay a square envelope ad- 
dressed in Anne’s neat hand. 

Grace pounced upon it joyfully, and, laying 
the others on the slide of her desk, tore it open 
and became immediately absorbed in the closely 
written sheets. When she had finished reading 
the letter she laid it down, then picking it up 
again turned to a paragraph on the last sheet. 

‘‘I promised to try to help Miss Ward,” 
wrote Anne. ‘‘Well, I have practically secured 
an engagement for her with Mr. Forest. It is 
an ingenue part in ‘ The Eeckoning, ’ which is to 
run in New York City all summer, at his 
theater. If she can come to New York as soon 
as college closes Mr. and Miss Southard wish 
her to stay at their home. We can soon tell 
whether she can play the part or not. If she 
can’t, Mr. Southard will be able to give her 
‘bits’ in his company, but the other part is by 
far the best engagement if she can make good 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


221 


in it. Both Mr. and Miss Southard say, how- 
ever, that they must have a letter of consent 
from her sister before they will undertake 
launching her in the theatrical world. They will 
write her if Miss Ward wishes them to do so. 
It is a really great opportunity for her. You 
know how easily and delightfully I earned my 
way through college. Let me know as soon as 
you can, Grace, what she wishes to do.’^ 

Grace read this paragraph half a dozen times. 
Her other letters lay unheeded before her. Fi- 
nally she gathered them up and, with the open 
letter in her hand, went slowly upstairs. At 
Evelyn’s door she paused and listened. She 
heard the sound of some one moving about 
within. Yes, Evelyn was still up. Grace 
rapped boldly on the door. 

A moment and it swung open. Evelyn stood 
staring blankly at Grace. She was wrapped in 
the folds of a pale blue silk kimono. Her hair 
hung in loose golden waves far below her waist 
and she. reminded Grace of the beautiful Ea- 
punzel of fairy tale fame who was shut up in a 
tower by a wicked witch and forced each night 
to let down her golden hair so that her dreadful 
jailer might climb up and into the tower win- 
dow. 

‘‘Miss Ward,” began Grace, without giving 
Evelyn time to utter a word, “I am sorry to 


222 GEACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


disturb you so late in the evening, but I have 
very good news for you. Miss Pierson has all 
but secured an engagement for you in ‘The 
Reckoning,’ a new play which is to run in New 
York City all summer. Read what she says.” 
Grace handed the sheet of paper to Evelyn. 
The girl stretched forth her hand mechani- 
cally for it. She still regarded Grace dully. 
Then to Grace’s utter amazement she burst 
into tears. “I can’t — take — the — engage- 
ment,” she sobbed. “I’m — ^not — coming — back 
— to — Overton — ^next year.” 

“What can have happened to her?” won- 
dered Grace. Aloud she said: “Don’t decide 
too hastily. Miss Ward. Take three or four 
days in which to think things over. I’ll come 
in and see you to-morrow. ’ ’ 

Evelyn made some incoherent response, unin- 
telligible to Grace. The latter realized that in 
her present state Evelyn could not be com- 
forted. It was best to leave her entirely alone 
until she had had her cry out. To-morrow 
would be time enough to try again to try to dis- 
cover what had happened. 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


223 


CHAPTER XXII 

TWO LETTEKS 

S HORTLY after Grace returned to her 
room Emma joined her. 

‘‘Where did you go? You are not the 
only one whose correspondents rose nobly to 
the occasion/’ she exulted, holding up several 
letters. “You haven’t read yours yet, have 
you. Let’s get ready for bed, put on our dress- 
ing gowns, and have a letter reading orgy.” 

“All right,” agreed Grace. “I’ve already 
opened one of mine. It was from Anne. She 
sends her love to you, and what do you think, 
Emma?” Grace lowered her voice. “She has 
secured a New York engagement for Evelyn 
Ward. I saw Miss Ward to-night, but some- 
thing is troubling her. When I went to the 
door to tell her what Anne had done she began 
to cry. I couldn’t find out what ailed her, and 
the more I talked the harder she cried. She 
said, however, that she couldn’t accept Anne’s 
offer. She thinks she won’t come back to Over- 
ton.” 

“Happy Overton,” commented Emma un- 
sympathetically. “Now hurry into your dress- 
ing gown and let’s begin our letters.” 


224 GRACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


Eveljni appeared at breakfast the next morn- 
ing looking weary and haggard. Her face was 
very pale and her eyes were heavy. By night, 
however, she seemed to have regained some- 
thing of her old poise. Covertly watching her, 
Grace noticed that for some unknovm reason 
she was much subdued. Several days after- 
ward she came to Grace and finally refused 
Anne’s offer. ^‘But are you quite certain that 
you are acting wisely. Miss Ward?” Grace 
asked in perplexed amazement. ^‘Last winter 
you were anxious to go into dramatic work.” 

have changed my mind,” was Evelyn’s 
sole reply. 

Grace wrote to Anne advising her of Eve- 
lyn’s refusal, but adding that she wished Anne 
would keep Evelyn in mind. ‘‘I can’t help feel- 
ing that she is acting against her real desires 
and that later she will realize her mistake.” 

The little that was left of April passed 
quickly. Life went on placidly enough at Har- 
lowe House, although Grace found few idle 
moments. With the first of June she began a 
detailed report of her year’s work to be pre- 
sented to the faculty and to Mrs. Gray. This 
report had not been required of her. She was 
making it merely for her own satisfaction. 
With her it was a matter of pride in having 


“Did I Startle You, Miss Ward?” 
225 

13 — Grace Marlowe’s Return to Overton Campus. 






TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


227 


been a faithful steward. She had tried to 
safeguard not only the interests of the girls 
under her roof, but Mrs. Gray’s interests as 
well. 

“I hope I’ve been a good house mother,” she 
murmured wistfully, as, seated in her office one 
bright Friday afternoon, she worked on her 
report. The ring of the postman caused her to 
lay down her pen and hurry into the hall. To 
her surprise she saw Evelyn Ward had fore- 
stalled her. She had opened the door for the 
postman, and now stood rapidly going over the 
pile of letters in her hand. Grace saw her sep- 
arate two letters from the pile. At this instant 
Evelyn glanced up. She uttered a sharp ex- 
clamation of surprise when she saw Grace 
standing beside her. Two letters fell from her 
hands. 

Grace stooped to pick them up. ‘‘Did I 
startle you. Miss Ward? I did not mean to. I 
did not know you were in the house. I thought 
the girls had gone to their classes.” 

“I — I — am late,” stammered Evelyn. “I’m 
going to my botany recitation in a minute. I — 
expected a letter. Here is the mail.” She 
thrust the letters she had been holding into 
Grace’s hand, and, turning, almost ran up the 
stairs. 

For an instant Grace’s eyes followed Eve- 


228 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


lyn’s disappearing figure, then she turned her 
attention to the letters. She still held the two 
she had picked up from the floor in her one 
hand. Glancing at them she saw that they were 
both addressed to her. No doubt Evelyn had 
intended to leave them on her desk. Rapidly 
sorting the other letters she found another for 
herself in Anne’s handwriting. Placing the let- 
ters for the various members of the household 
in the bulletin board Grace retired to her office 
to read Anne’s letter. 

‘‘Deakest Grace: 

‘‘Just a line to tell you that the part in ‘The 
Reckoning’ is still open. Mr. Forest cannot 
find the type of girl he wishes for the part. She 
must be dazzlingly, but naturally, blonde and 
very beautiful. I am sure if he were to see Miss 
Ward he would engage her at once, even though 
she has had no dramatic experience. Why not 
let her read this note? Perhaps she may 
change her mind. She will never have a better 
opportunity. I am ready and willing to help 
her. Am writing in a rush. It is almost time 
for me to go on. With much love. Will write 
more fully later. 

“Yours as ever, 

“Anne.” 

Grace laid down the letter with a slight 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


229 


frown. Since Evelyn first refusal to consider 
Anne ’s proposal Grace had held little communi- 
cation with her. Of late Evelyn had gone about 
her affairs with a curious air of repression, 
which reminded Grace of the terrible calm that 
so often precedes a storm. 

‘‘I’ll watch for her when she comes in fro n 
her classes and give her Anne’s letter,” said 
Grace, half aloud. She picked up the next en- 
velope and looked curiously at the unfamiliar 
writing. The postmark was all but obliterated. 
Tearing the envelope she drew forth the letter, 
unfolded it and read : 

‘ ‘ Dear Miss Harlowe : 

‘ ‘ More than once I have planned to write and 
thank you for your goodness to Evelyn, but I 
have been so very busy that the time has 
slipped by faster than I realized. Fortunately, 
for Evelyn and me, I have had a great deal of 
work to do and have been in exceptionally good 
health, so that it has been easier than I thought 
to raise the money to pay her college fees. I will 
enclose the second payment of her fee in a let- 
ter which I am writing to her. I have men- 
tioned in my letter to her that I have written to 
you. I thank you many times for your good- 
ness to my little sister and trust that she has 
been truly appreciative of your kindness to 


230 GEACE HAELOWE’S EETUEN 


her. Trusting that you have been well and that 
you have met with the greatest success in your 
yearns work. With grateful thanks and best 
wishes. 

‘‘Yours sincerely, 

“Ida Ward.’’ 

Grace read the letter through three times. 
When she raised her eyes from it her face wore 
an expression of mingled horrified suspicion 
and unbelief. Surely it could not be possible, 
and yet — ^before her mental eyes flashed the 
vision of that wet January afternoon when she 
had come back to Harlowe House from her 
Christmas vacation and had been greeted by 
the sound of Evelyn’s sobs as she passed her 
door. How she had gone to rEvel^m’s room and 
there heard the pitiful story of Ida Ward’s ill- 
ness and her failure to send Evelyn’s college 
fees, and of how, through the Semper Fidelis 
Fund, she had come forward and bridged Eve- 
lyn’s difficulty. 

What did it mean! “She must have ” 

muttered Grace. In her agitation she spoke 
aloud. Then she stopped abruptly. She would 
not condemn Evelyn without a hearing, but 
Evelyn would have to explain, if explanation 
were possible. She laid the letter on her desk 
and turning away from it tore open the last 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


231 


envelope, which bore the name of a business 
house in one corner. It contained a bill from 
Hanford’s, the largest department store in 
Overton. At the bottom was written. ‘‘This 
account is long overdue. Please remit at once. ’ ’ 
Grace had a charge account at Hanford’s on 
which, occasionally, she allowed certain girls in 
the house to buy goods, merely as a matter of 
accommodation to them. Her gaze traveled 
dovm the list of items in bewilderment. 

“Why!” she exclaimed. “I never bought a 
gowm there that cost seventy-five dollars, or 
silk stockings or a scarf. There must be some 
mistake. I know that none of the girls have 
either. I haven’t bought anything since Feb- 
ruary. Let me see. It’s only three o’clock. I 
think I’ll walk down to Hanford’s and have the 
matter adjusted. I must see Evelyn too, as 
soon as she comes in.” 

Grace went upstairs for her hat and was soon 
on her way to the business center of Overton. 
Her impatience to learn the truth received its 
first check with the inditferent assurance of the 
clerk that Mr. Anderson, the man in charge of 
the department of accounts, was busy up- 
stairs. 

“Then I’ll wait for him.” With a sigh of 
resignation she sat down on the oak seat just 
outside the office window to wait. 


232 GRACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


It was twenty minutes past four when Mr. 
Anderson appeared. 

“I can’t let you know about this at once,” 
was the accountant’s discouraging response 
when Grace laid the matter before him. ‘‘We’ll 
take it up with the saleswoman, then write 
you. ’ ’ 

“Very well. I shall expect to hear from you 
within the next three days.” Grace turned 
away, far from satisfied. Yet there was noth- 
ing else to do. Long since she had learned that 
the system employe of a department store is 
a law unto himself, and as unchangeable in his 
methods as the most stubborn Mede or Persian 
ever dreamed of being. 

And now for her interview with Evelyn. 
How could she best approach the girl whom she 
suspected of having first shamefully betrayed 
her sister’s confidence, then purposely misrep- 
resented matters to her? And what had Eve- 
lyn done with the money? These and similar 
painful questions occupied her thoughts so 
fully that she did not realize that she had 
reached Harlowe House until she found herself 
ascending the front steps. 

Without giving herself time to consider de- 
laying the disagreeable interview, Grace hur- 
ried up the stairs. To her surprise Evelyn’s 
door stood partially open. She peered into the 


TO OVEKTON CAMPUS 


233 


room, but it was empty of an occupant. Step- 
ping inside she glanced about her. Evelyn’s 
hat was gone. She had come in from her classes 
and gone out again. 

Grace went slowly dowmstairs. She was 
sorry that she had not been able to have her 
talk mth Evelyn before the others came in 
from their day’s recitations. She decided to 
wait until after dinner. When Evelyn went to 
her room she would follow her there. The 
longer she delayed facing Evelyn with her 
sister’s letter the harder the task would be- 
come. But at dinner time Evelyn’s place was 
vacant. 

At ten o ’clock that night she had not come in. 

Becoming alarmed Grace telephoned to Al- 
thea Parker to know if Evelyn were with her. 
In reply to her anxious inquiry Althea declared 
she had not seen Evelyn for two days. Uncer- 
tain as to the wisest course to pursue Grace 
concluded to wait until Emma came in from an 
evening’s visit with Patience Eliot. 

It was almost eleven o’clock when Emma re- 
turned. 

^‘I’m so glad you’ve come,” greeted Grace as 
her friend entered their room. ‘^Evelyn Ward 
hasn’t come in yet and I’m worried about her. 
I saw her this afternoon, but she hasn’t been 
here since then.” 


234 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


<<yery likely she is with Miss Parker.’’ 
Emma spoke in an unconcerned tone. 

‘‘No she isn’t. I telephoned Miss Parker. 
She hasn ’t seen Evelyn for two days. ’ ’ 

“She hasn’t!” Emma glanced at Grace in 
surprise. The ring of anxiety in Grace ’s voice 
had not been lost upon her. “What’s hap- 
pened, Gracious!” she asked. 

For answer Grace handed Ida Ward’s letter 
to Emma. ‘ ‘ Read it, ’ ’ she commanded. 

Emma read the letter. “Do you think ” 

she began. 

“What do you think!” interrupted Grace. 
“WTiat can one think! Evelyn received her let- 
ter from Ida Ward before I received this. She 
knew that this letter was on the way. This 
afternoon I found her at the door sorting the 
mail. She had two letters in one hand, which 
she had separated from the others. MHien she 
saw me she dropped the two. I stooped to pick 
them up. Both of them were for me. I said, 
‘Did I startle you. Miss W'^ard!’ and she stam- 
mered something about expecting a letter. She 
shoved the other letters into my hands and ran 
upstairs. I haven’t seen her since.” 

“Who was the other letter from that she had 
picked out!” 

“Oh, it was a bill from Hanford’s. I ” 

Grace stopped short and stared at Emma. A 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


235 


horrible suspicion had seized her. She was 
afraid that she now understood the meaning of 
the bill she had received. In one of those curi- 
ous, illumining flashes, which sometimes re- 
veal in an instant what seems hopelessly ob- 
scure, she had hit upon the truth. 

Briefly she outlined the situation to Emma, 
who had long been her confidante. 

‘‘You’d better let matters rest till to-mor- 
row,” advised Emma. “It’s too late to try to 
find her to-night. We would only create com- 
ment and arouse suspicion if we telephone to 
the houses where her friends live. It wouldn’t 
surprise me if she had left Overton for good 
and all. ’ ’ 

“We must find her,” declared Grace with 
decision. 

“What will you do with her if you do find 
her?” 

“I don’t know. That will depend entirely 
upon her. You are right, though, about wait- 
ing until morning. We must protect her from 
the consequences of her ovm foolishness. For 
she isn’t wicked, Emma. She has been carried 
away by vanity and love of dress. Perhaps if 
we gave her another chance she would live all 
this down and be a different girl.” 

“Perhaps,” Emma’s tone was skeptical. 
“For the sake of the community at large let us 


236 GEACE HAELOWE^S EETUEN 


hope for this much-to-be-desired metamorpho- 
sis/’ 

But the next morning brought news of Eve- 
lyn in the shape of a letter addressed to Grace, 
which came on the first delivery of the mail for 
the day. With eager fingers Grace opened it. 
A slip of blue paper fluttered to the floor as she 
unfolded it. Picking it up she saw it was a 
money order made payable to Evelyn Ward, 
then she read : 

^‘Deak Miss Haelowe: 

^‘When you receive this letter I shall be far 
away from Harlowe House. I have done dread- 
ful things and I cannot face you. All I can do 
is to go away where no one knows me, and begin 
over again. I used the money Ida sent me in 
the fall for my college fees to buy an evening 
dress. Then I told you that she was ill. I cried 
purposely to gain your sympathy because I 
knew about the Semper Fidelis Fund and was 
sure you would help me. I meant to pay it all 
back to you, and so I am going to New York to 
get work and do it, even though it takes me a 
long, long time. 

‘‘But there is something still more dreadful 
to tell you. I wanted another new evening gown 
to wear to the Willston dance. I had paid my 
college fees for the year, so I thought I could 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


237 


take the money that Ida sent me for my second 
payment and bny a gown and other things 
which I wanted. Bnt Ida wrote and said she 
conldn T send the money jnst then, so I went to 
Hanford’s department store and bonght the 
things. I had them charged to your account. 
When the bill came I was terribly frightened. 
I thought they wouldn ’t send it for a long time. 
I just happened to see it in the bulletin board, 
so I took it out and tore it up. 

‘‘Then I went to Mary Reynolds and tried to 
get her to lend me some of the treasury money 
until my money came, but she Y/ouldn’t do it. 
That is why she cried so often. When the first 
of May came I watched the bulletin board and 
took the bill again. It had Hanford’s address 
in one corner so I knew it. All the time I kept 
hoping that Ida would send my money before 
it was too late. Yesterday morning it came, 
but in her letter she said she had written to 
3^ou and told you how well she had been and 
about her work. I knew it would be dreadful 
for me if you received her letter, but I did not 
know when it would come, so I stayed away 
from my classes and watched the mail. I had 
the letter from Ida and the bill from the 
store in my hands when you surprised me 
this afternoon. You picked them up before I 
had a chance to do so. Then I knew that there 


238 GEACE HAELOWE’S EETUEN 


was just one thing to do and that was to go 
away. 

‘‘Please take the money order and pay the 
bill at the store. I will pay Semper Fidelis as 
soon as I can. I will write Ida and tell her how 
badly I have behaved, and when I go to work in 
New York I will send for my trunk. It is packed 
and ready to be shipped. 

“Forgive me if you can. I am sorry for 
everything. I vdsh I had been different. Good- 
bye and thank you for your great kindness to me. 
I did not deserve it. Please don ’t try to find me. 

“Penitently, 

“Evelyn Ward.’’ 

For a time Grace sat at her desk with the let- 
ter in her hand. Then she stood up with the 
air of one who has come to a definite decision. 
“I’ll go to New York City to-day to look for 
her,” she said half aloud. “I believe she will 
try to get work at one of the theaters. Mr. 
Southard and Anne will help me find her. She 
must come back to Overton. I feel sure that 
she has suffered enough over this trouble to 
have learned her lesson.” 

Grace ran upstairs and burst into her room 
with, “Emma, Evelyn has gone to New York! 
I’m going to take the next train there. Eead 
this letter. It will tell you everything. I 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


239 


haven T time. I must make that 9.15 train. 

Grace was in the middle of a hasty toilet 
when a knock sounded on the door. 

Emma answered it. 

‘^Here^s a telegram for Miss Harlowe.’’ The 
maid held out a yellow envelope. 

Grace tore it open. One glance at the tele- 
gram and she began a joyful dance about the 
room, waving it over her head. ‘^Hurrah for 
Kathleen West ! She found Evelyn ! Read it. ’ ^ 

She held the telegram before Emma^s eyes. 


‘‘Evelyn with me. 
All well.*^ 


Return Overton Sunday. 
‘ ‘ Kathleeist. ’ ^ 


read Emma aloud. Turning to Grace she 
quoted with whimsical tenderness, “To Kath- 
leen West, girls, drink her down.’^ Then with 
twinkling eyes she added, “There’s only one 
thing that I can say to express my sentiments, 
and, with my sincerest apologies to the august 
faculty which trustfully engaged me to teach 
English, I say it with heartfelt fervor, “Can 
you beat itP’ 


240 GRACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


CHAPTER XXIII 

KATHLEEN WEST, CONFIDANTE 

W HEN Evelyn Ward left Grace Har- 
lowe with, the letters, which she had 
tried so hard to obtain, in her posses- 
sion, she had but one thought. That thought was 
to leave Harlowe House before Grace realized 
the full meaning of her guilt. For two days Eve- 
lyn ’s suit case had been packed for just such 
an emergency. She had not been sure that she 
could stem the tide of retribution that had set 
in against her, so she was prepared to slip 
away if she failed to obtain the letters that 
meant her undoing. Hardly had Grace re- 
seated herself in her office when Evelyn, suit 
case in hand, her hat on, the coat to her suit 
thro^vn over her arm, stole stealthily down the 
stairs and let herself out of the house without 
a sound. Once clear of the house she set off 
across the campus, almost at a run, in the direc- 
tion of the station. At four o ’clock there was a 
train to New York. She had a little money. 
She would go there. Once there she would try 
to get into a theatrical company. 

Arrived at the station she glanced fearfull}^ 
about her. She did not wish to meet any one 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


241 


she knew. Leaving her suit ease in charge of 
the station master she left the station and 
walked slowly up the street. She would stroll 
about until almost train time. She had over 
an hour’s wait. If she encountered any of the 
students she knew on the street they would at- 
tach no importance to seeing her. 

It was five minutes to four when she pur- 
chased her ticket to New York. To her relief 
she had seen no one she knew. When the train 
pulled into the station she was the first person 
to board it. She took a seat on the side of the 
car farthest from the platform, so she did 
not see a slim hurrying girl’s figure rush 
madly down the platform, just as the train was 
about to start, and swing herself up the car 
steps on the last second, heedless of the warn- 
ing expostulation of the porter. 

Torn with remorse for the past, fearful of 
the future, which, to her overwrought imagina- 
tion, crouched like a huge black monster ready 
to spring upon her and engulf her in its cruel 
jaws, Evelyn watched the swiftly passing land- 
scape Avith unseeing eyes. When a voice from 
the seat behind her suddenly addressed her 
with, ‘‘Good evening. Miss Ward,” she half 
sprang to her feet in blind terror. Turning, 
she found herself looking into the keen, dark 
eyes of Kathleen West, the newspaper girl. 

16 — Grace Marlowe’s Return to Overton Campus. 


242 GRACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 


‘‘Oh — good evening/^ she faltered. 

“Going to New YorkU^ was the brisk ques- 
tion. 

Evelyn nodded. 

“I’m coming into your seat. I hate riding 
alone in a train. I’m so glad you are going the 
whole way.” 

Evelyn made no reply. She wished Kathleen 
a thousand miles otf. 

The newspaper girl scrutinized narrowly her 
companion’s lovely set face. Trained in the 
study of human nature she had learned to know 
the outward signs of a perturbed spirit. Her 
straight brows knit in a puzzled frown. Then, 
noting that Evelyn had colored hotly under the 
shrewd fixity of her sharp eyes, she glanced 
carelessly away. 

Neither girl spoke for a little. Evelyn was 
wondering distractedly how she could escape 
from Kathleen, when they reached New York, 
without arousing suspicion on the part of the 
newspaper girl. Kathleen, whose intuition as 
well as her eyes told her that all was not 
well with Evelyn, racked her brain for the 
words which would tear down the wall of 
stony reticence which this strange girl had 
built about herself. Try as she might she 
could think of no etfectual way to begin. 
Deciding to bide her time she tried to 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


243 


rouse Evelyn’s too-apparently flagging spirits 
by a crisp account of a big newspaper 
story which she had run to earth during her 
Easter vacation. At first she met with small 
success, but as she talked on Evelyn grew inter- 
ested in spite of herself and began asking half 
timid, half eager questions about New York. 
Was it hard to get work there! Could a girl 
live on six or seven dollars a week in a large 
city? How did these girls go about it to find 
positions? In what section of the city did most 
of the working girls, who had no homes, live? 

Kathleen answered her questions imperturb- 
ably, telling of her own experience in New York 
as a beginner of newspaper work. Later Eve- 
lyn plied her with countless questions regard- 
ing the stage, its advantages and disadvan- 
tages. The throb of anxiety in her voice was 
stronger than her elaborate pretense of indif- 
ference. Figuratively, Kathleen pricked up her 
ears. It was only when they had exhausted the 
subjects of the working girl and the stage that 
she launched at Evelyn the seemingly innocent 
question, ‘‘Mliere are you going to stay in New 
York, Miss Ward?” 

— why ” stammered Evelyn. 

‘^Do you expect to be met at the station? It 
will be almost midnight when we reach New 
York, you know.” 


244 GRACE HARLOWE^S RETURN 

‘‘I know/’ muttered Evelyn. Averting her 
face from Kathleen she stared out the win- 
dow. 

^‘It’s now or never,” decided Kathleen. Her 
strong supple fingers closed suddenly over one 
of the limp white hands that lay so helplessly in 
Evelyn’s lap. ‘‘Miss Ward,” she said in a low 
tense voice, ‘ ‘ something dreadful has happened 
to you. I want you to tell me about it. Re- 
member this. No matter what it is, I am your 
friend. I feel sure that you are going blindly 
and alone, to the coldest, cruelest city in the 
world and I should never forgive myself if I 
allowed you to do it.” 

Into Evelyn’s eyes leaped indescribable 
terror as Kathleen’s hand closed over hers. 
For an instant she stared wildly at the news- 
paper girl, then the stony reserve, with which 
she had bolstered herself, gave away, and tear- 
ing her hands free she covered her face with 
them. 

Kathleen waited patiently till the tearless 
storm which shook Evelyn had subsided a little. 
“Now tell me all about it,” she urged gently. 

Evelyn ’s hands dropped from her face. The 
tortured look in her blue eyes aroused all Kath- 
leen’s sympathy. Haltingly, tremblingly, bit 
by bit, Evelyn told of the temptation to use her 
sister’s hard-earned money for fine clothes, and 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


245 


the gulf of deception and dishonesty into which 
she had plunged by yielding to it. 

Kathleen listened without comment. When 
Evelyn had finished she said, ‘‘You must go 
back to Overton, Miss Ward, and to Grace Har- 
lowe. She will forgive everything and set you 
right with yourself again.’’ 

“Oh, I couldn’t,” protested Evelyn wildly. 
“She knows already how dishonest I’ve been. 
I can never go back to Overton. I must stay in 
New York and work and never see Ida or any 
one again. I have forfeited all claim to friend- 
ship or love.” 

“Nonsense ! Just get rid of that idea as fast 
as ever you can. You are going to my boarding 
house with me to-night. To-morrow we will go 
and see Anne Pierson. I know where the South- 
ards live. We will ask her to get you an en- 
gagement. Perhaps you can meet Mr. Forest. ’ ’ 

“Miss Harlowe told Miss Pierson about me, 
and she wrote and offered to get me an engage- 
ment,” faltered Evelyn, “but I knew I couldn’t 
take it, so I refused. There wouldn’t be any 
chance for me now. That was several weeks 
ago.” 

“There is sure to be something for you. You 
are beautiful, you know,” went on Kathleen in 
an appraising, matter-of-fact tone. “You are 
sure to make good. You must. You’re going 


246 GEACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


to pay Semper Fidelis back as soon as ever yon 
can and yondl have to work hard and save your 
money. ’ ^ 

Forgetting for the instant her remorse and 
humiliation Evelyn clasped her hands in an 
eagerness born of the desire to make repara- 
tion. ‘‘Oh, I will!’’ Then her face clouded. 
“Miss Pierson won’t care to help me after the 
dreadful things I’ve done.” 

“Who is going to tell her about them? I’m 
not. I know Grace Harlowe won’t. It isn’t 
necessary for you to tell her either. It shall be 
a secret among we three. I know Grace will 
say so.” 

The two girls, so strangely brought together 
and united in this new bond of fellowship, 
talked on. It was ten minutes to twelve when 
they reached New York City. At the station 
they were met by a tall clean-cut, young man 
with keen blue eyes. “Got your wire, Kath- 
leen.” He stooped and kissed the self-reliant 
Miss West, who turned very pink. “I’ll have to 
explain,” she smiled as she introduced him to 
Evelyn. “Mr. Vernon is my fiance, but don’t 
you dare breathe it at Overton. Miss Ward 
won’t be able to see the persons she is to call 
upon until to-morrow. She’s going to my 
boarding house with me. You can call a taxi- 
cab and ride that far with us. ’ ’ The newspaper 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


247 


girPs clever explanation bridged a yawning 
gap^. 

Kathleen and Mr. Vernon kept np a steady 
conversation during the ride. Evelyn sat silent, 
, trying to realize just what had happened to her. 
She experienced an immeasurable sense of re- 
lief, as though she had been dragged, just in 
time, from the edge of a frightful precipice. 
Long after Kathleen had gone to sleep that 
night she lay staring into the darkness, wide- 
eyed and wondering at the goodness of this 
girl whom she hardly knew, and into her heart 
crept a sudden revelation of what true fellow- 
ship meant and was to mean to her forever 
afterward. 


CHAPTER XXIV 

COI^CLUSION 

T he following morning Kathleen took 
Evelyn to call on Anne Pierson at the 
Southards. She gazed almost in awe at 
Everett Southard, while her feeling of admira- 
tion for Anne was deep and abiding. Her un- 
deniable beauty was not lost upon Mr. South- 
ard, who later confided to his sister and Anne 
that Miss Ward was the most beautiful blonde 


248 GEACE HAELOWE’S EETUEN 


girl he had ever seen. After an hour’s chat in 
the actor’s big, comfortable library Mr. South- 
ard proposed that they call upon Mr. Forest 
that morning. Miss Pierson had written Miss 
Harlowe about the part, he declared, to the com- 
plete mystification of both Kathleen and Eve- 
lyn. He was glad Miss "Ward had been able to 
come. He was sure she would be exactly suited 
to the part in ‘^The Eeckoning.” Kathleen 
managed to shoot a warning glance at Evelyn 
not to betray herself. Later, by adroitly ques- 
tioning Anne, she managed to put herself in 
possession of all the details concerning the let- 
ter Anne had written to Grace. 

Mr. Forest quite fulfilled Mr. Southard’s 
prediction. He could not refrain from showing 
his satisfaction with Evelyn. Within half an 
hour after entering his office she had signed a 
contract to play the part of ‘‘Constance 
Devon” in the forthcoming production of “The 
Eeckoning. ’ ’ 

“First rehearsal July 2d. Here’s the part. 
Study it. Make these hardened barnstormers 
help you,” declared Mr. Forest with a dry 
chuckle, as he handed her the part. 

“But how does he know that I can do it?” 
she questioned, half fearfully, as they left the 
office. 

“He is going to take a chance,” explained 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


249 


Mr. Southard. ‘ ‘ In his own mind he thinks you 
will do. He knows we will help you. You must 
work hard and prove to him that he is right. ’ ^ 

To Evelyn the rest of that eventful Saturday 
seemed like a marvelous dream. She had never 
before been in a large city, but despite her in- 
terest in the sights and sounds of New York she 
could not help thinking of how different it 
might all have been if she had not met Kath- 
leen. The busy, endless streets terrified her 
and the more she saw of the great metropolis 
the less confidence she felt in her o^vn power to 
wrest a living from it, single-handed and alone. 

After leaving Mr. Forest’s office they took 
luncheon at the Southards. Mr. Southard and 
Anne had a matinee in the afternoon. That 
evening they were to give the final perform- 
ance of their season, which had run later than 
usual. Kathleen had an assignment for her 
paper for the afternoon, so Miss Southard took 
Evelyn to a matinee at one of the theaters. 
That evening the little party met at six o ’clock 
in Mr. Southard’s dressing room, where their 
dinner was brought in and served to them. 
Afterward Kathleen, Miss Southard and Eve- 
lyn sat in a box and saw Everett Southard and 
Anne in ‘‘The Merchant of Venice.” 

After the theater came a little supper at the 
Southards’ home to which Mr. Vernon, Kath- 


250 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


leen^s fiance, was also invited. Miss Southard 
had insisted that Kathleen and Evelyn should 
be her guests for the remainder of their stay 
in New York, and it was under the Southards^ 
hospitable roof that Evelyn fell asleep that 
night after one of the happiest, most eventful 
days she had ever spent. 

Sunday morning soon slipped by. It seemed 
hardly half an hour from breakfast until train 
time. The charming informality mth which the 
actor and his sister treated her made Evelyn 
feel as though she had known them for a very 
long time. In the enjoyment of the moment she 
quite forgot the real reason of her journey to 
New York, and it was only when Miss Southard 
invited her to come to their home to live as 
soon as college was over, in order that Mr. 
Southard might help her with her new part, 
that the humiliating remembrance of her mis- 
deeds returned to her with sickening force. 

‘‘You must write to your sister, my dear, and 
explain everything,’’ said Miss Southard. “If 
you will give me her address I will write to her 
too. That is one point on which Everett is most 
particular. He would not encourage a young 
girl to enter upon the life of the stage without 
the full consent of her parents or guardian.” 

When finally she and Kathleen had said 
good-bye to the Southards, who had seen them 


TO OVEETON CAMPUS 


251 


to their train, and were settled for the long 
ride to Overton, Evelyn faltered, ‘‘Kathleen, 
all the time I was with the Southards I felt just 
like a traitor. Do yon think I onght to have 
told them everything? lUs not fair to them to 
masquerade under false colors.’’ 

Kathleen eyed her companion searchingly. 
Evelyn’s conscience was no longer sleeping. It 
was now wide awake and tormenting her. 

“I’m glad you feel as you do about it, Eve- 
lyn,” was her blunt rejoinder. “It shows that 
you are on the right road. I don’t believe it is 
necessary for you to tell the Southards any- 
thing. Still there is another person who must 
decide that.” 

“You mean Miss Harlowe?” 

Kathleen nodded. 

“I can’t bear to face her.” Evelyn’s voice 
sank almost to a whisper. 

“You are not the only one who has said 
that.” There was a curiously significant ring 
in Kathleen’s voice that made Evelyn look at 
her in mute inquiry. 

“Let me tell you of another girl who had to 
face the same situation. ’ ’ Kathleen began with 
her entrance into Overton as a freshman and 
told Evelyn the story of her hatred of Grace 
and her betrayal of Grace’s trust, of how El- 
freda had shown her the way to reparation and 


252 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


the gaining of true college spirit, and of how 
she had tried in a small measure to redeem the 
past by writing ‘‘LoyalhearU’ as a belated 
tribute to Grace. 

Evelyn listened with somber attentiveness. 
The past three days had taught her more of life 
than had her entire eighteen years. She had 
lately begun to see what college might mean to 
the girl who lived up to its traditions. Until 
the moment of hearing Kathleen’s story she 
had felt that Grace Harlowe must despise her 
utterly. Now she fixed solemn blue eyes on 
Kathleen. ‘‘Do you believe Miss Harlowe will 
ever forgive me!” was^her mournful question. 

“Of course she will. You don’t know her as 
Ido.” 

Kathleen’s emphatic assurance had a visibly 
cheering effect upon the other girl. Wlien they 
reached Overton, however, her dread of meet- 
ing Grace returned with renewed force. “I 
can’t face her to-night,” she pleaded. 

“We are going to Harlowe House now. 
Come on.” Kathleen grasped Evel^m’s arm 
and piloted her up the street at a brisk pace. 
Neither girl ever forgot that walk across the 
campus. 

‘ ‘ Here we are. ’ ’ They had mounted the steps 
of Harlowe House. Kathleen rang the bell. 

A moment’s wait and the door opened. Grace 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


253 


stood peering out at the two girls. ‘‘I knew 
you^d come. IVe been watching for yon,’’ she 
cried. She held ont her hands to Evelyn, who 
dropped her suit case and grasped them with a 
half smothered sob. 

‘‘Come up to my room.” Slipping her arm 
about Evelyn, Grace drew her toward the 
stairs. 

‘ ‘ Good night, Grace, I ’ll see you to-morrow. ’ ’ 
The vestibule door closed with a decided click. 
Kathleen did not wish to be a third party. 
Grace and Evelyn were better off without her. 

Once in Grace’s room Evelyn broke down. 
“Oh, Miss Harlowe, can you, will you forgive 
me?” she sobbed. 

“You mustn’t cry so. Miss Ward,’^ soothed 
Grace. “Of course I forgive you. If Miss 
West had not brought you home to me I in- 
tended to go to New York City to look for you. 
Remember, you are, and I hope mil be until 
your college days are over, a Harlowe House 
girl. ’ ’ 

“You are too good to me,” sobbed Evelyn. 

Grace led her gently to a chair. ‘ ‘ Sit down, ’ ’ 
•she urged. 

Evelyn sank into the chair. “I can’t como 
back to Overton next year.” Her head 
drooped in shame and humiliation. 

“You must,” said Grace simply, “for your 


254 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


own sake as well as your sister’s. She must 
never be worried with the slightest inkling of 
what has happened. It is to be a secret. Out- 
side of Miss Dean and Miss West no one ex- 
cept ourselves knows. 

‘‘Miss Pierson and Mr. Southard took me to 
see Mr. Forest. He engaged me to play a part 
in his new play ‘ The Reckoning, ’ ’ ’ began Eve- 
lyn. “I — didn’t — tell — the Southards — about 
— things. Kathleen wouldn’t let me, but she 
says I must tell them if you say so. I’d — 
rather. I — I want to be — ^honest — now — and — 
and always.” Evelyn’s voice shook with the 
intensity of her feelings. 

“Kathleen was right in not allowing you to 
tell them. You have suffered enough, Evelyn. 
You must look to the future. Your work this 
summer will make it possible for you to pay 
the money you owe Semper Fidelis and your 
college expenses too.” 

Grace’s sensible, practical words, went far 
toward restoring Evelyn to her normal self. 
The two young women talked long and ear- 
nestly. It was after eleven o’clock when Eve- 
Um rose to go to her room. 

“I’ll prove to you that I am worthy of your 
trust,” she said with shining eyes. “I’ll make 
you and Ida proud of me yet. ’ ’ 

After she had gone to her room Grace sat for 


TO OVERTON CAMPUS 


255 


a little, her hands idly folded, her thoughts on 
the girl who had found herself after many false 
starts. How glad she was that everything had 
turned out so beautifully, thanks to Kathleen’s 
chance meeting with Evelyn. What a power 
for good Kathleen had become. Yes, college 
was really the place where one eventually found 
oneself. And now her first year of work was 
almost over. Another week and she would be 
back in dear old Oakdale. With the thought of 
home Tom Gray’s earnest, boyish face rose be- 
fore her. It cast a faint shadow on the pleas- 
ure of the coming reunion with her family and 
friends. She hated to feel that she was making 
Tom unhappy, yet she was equally certain that, 
with her, work still came first. 

can’t give up my work,” she said aloud. 

“Well, who said you should?” demanded 
Emma Dean’s matter-of-fact tones. The door 
stood partly open and Emma had entered just 
in time to hear Grace’s emphatic utterance. 

“Has the prodigal returned?” 

“She has,” smiled Grace. Grace recounted 
what had taken place that evening. “Isn’t it 
wonderful how college helps these girls to find 
themselves, Emma?” she asked when she had 
finished her recital. 

“College and Grace Harlowe,” declared 
Emma. 


256 GRACE HARLOWE’S RETURN 


‘‘You mustnT say that/^ Grace colored and 
shook her head in emphatic denial. 

‘ ‘ Oh, yes, I must, because it is the truth, ’ ’ in- 
sisted Emma. “Dear Loyalheart, your High- 
way of Life led you back into the Land of Col- 
lege, didnT itV’ 

Grace nodded. “I’m going to stay in the 
Land of College too, Emma. I was just think- 
ing about it when you came in. That was what 
made me say, ‘I can’t give up my work.’ ” 

“Overton needs you, and Harlowe House 
needs you, and Emma Dean needs you, but are 
you sure that some one else does not need you 
more than we do ? ” questioned Emma slyly. 

“That’s three to one, Emma, and the major- 
ity rules,” evaded Grace. “Will you be my 
roommate, mentor and comforter next year?” 

“Most Gracious Grace, I will, and there’s my 
hand on it. ’ ’ 

How fully Emma Dean kept her promise and 
what Grace ’s second year on the campus 
brought her will be told in “Grace Harlowe ’s 
Problem,” the record of her further college 
life at Harlowe House. 


The End. 


HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY’S 

CATALOGUE OF 

The Best and Least Expensive 
Books for Real Boys 
and Girls 


Really good and new stories for boys and girls are not 
plentiful. Many stories, too, are so highly improbable as 
to bring a grin of derision to the young reader’s face be- 
fore he has gone far. The name of ALTEMUS is a dis- 
tinctive brand on the cover of a book, always ensuring 
the buyer of having a book that is up-to-date and fine 
throughout. No buyer of an ALTEMUS book is ever 
disappointed. 

Many are the claims made as to the inexpensiveness 
of books. Go into any bookstore and ask for an Altemus 
book. Compare the price charged you for Altemus 
books with the price demanded for other juvenile books. 
You will at once discover that a given outlay of money 
will buy more of the ALTEMUS books than of those 
published by other houses. 

Every dealer in books carries the ALTEMUS books. 


Sold by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of price 

H enry Altemus Company 

507-513 Cherry Street, Philadelphia 


The Motor Boat Club Series 

By H. IRVING HANCOCK 

The keynote of these books is manliness. The stories are wonder- 
fully entertaining, and they are at the same time sound and whole- 
some. No boy will willingly lay down an unfinished book in this 
series. 

1 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB OF THE KENNEBEC; Or, The 

Secret of Smugglers’ Island. 

2 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB AT NANTUCKET ; Or, The Mys- 

tery of the Dunstan Heir. 

3 THE MOTpR BOAT CLUB OFF LONG ISLAND ; Or, A Dar- 

ing Marine Game at Racing Speed. 

4 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB AND THE WIRELESS; Or, The 

Dot, Dash and Dare Cruise. 

5 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB IN FLORIDA; Or, Laying the 

Ghost of Alligator Swamp. 

6 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB AT THE GOLDEN GATE; Or, A 

Thrilling Capture in the Great Fog. 

7 THE MOTOR JOAT CLUB ON THE GREAT LAKES ; Or, 

The Flying Dutchman of the Big Fresh Water. 

Goth, Illustrated ' Price, per Volume, 50c. 


The Range and Grange Hustlers 

By FRANK GEE PATCHIN 

Have you any idea of the excitements, the glories of life on great 
ranches in the West? Any bright boy will “devour” the books of 
this series, once he has made a start with the first volume. 

1 THE RANGE AND GRANGE HUSTLERS ON THE RANCH ; 

Or, The Boy Shepherds of the Great Divide. 

2 THE RANGE AND GRANGE HUSTLERS’ GREATEST 

ROUND-UP; Or, Pitting Their Wits Against a Packers’ 
Combine. 

3 THE RANGE AND GRANGE HUSTLERS ON THE PLAINS; 

Or, Following the Steam Plows Across the Prairie. 

4 THE RANGE AND GRANGE HUSTLERS AT CHICAGO; 

Or, The Conspiracy of the Wheat Pit. 

Cloth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, 50c. 


Submarine Boys Series 

By VICTOR G. DURHAM 

These splendid books for boys and girls deal with life aboard sub- 
marine torpedo boats, and with the adventures of the young crew, 
and possess, in addition to the author’s surpassing knack of story- 
telling, a great educational value for all young readers. 

I THE SUBMARINE BOYS ON DUTY; Or, Life on a Diving 
Torpedo Boat. 

a THE SUBMARINE BOYS’ TRIAL TRIP; Or, “Making Good” 
as Young Experts. 

3 THE SUBMARINE BOYS AND THE MIDDIES; Or, The 

Prize Detail at Annapolis. 

4 THE SUBMARINE BOYS AND THE SPIES; Or, Dodging 

the Sharks of the Deep. 

5 THE SUBMARINE BOYS’ LIGHTNING CRUISE; Or, The 

Young Kings of the Deep. 

6 THE SUBMARINE BOYS FOR THE FLAG; Or, Deeding 

Their Lives to Uncle Sam. 

7 THE SUBMARINE BOYS AND THE SMUGGLERS; Or, 

Breaking Up the New Jersey Customs Frauds. 

Goth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, 50c. 

— — 

The. Square Dollar Boys Series 

By H. IRVING HANCOCK 

The reading boy will be a voter within a few years J these books 
are bound to make him think, and when he casts his vote he will 
do it more intelligently for having read these volumes. 

1 .THE SQUARE DOLLAR BOYS WAKE UP ; Or, Fighting the 

Trolley Franchise Steal. 

2 THE SQUARE DOLLAR BOYS SMASH THE RING; Or, In 

the Lists Against the Crooked Land Deal. 

Goth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, 50c. 


Ben Lightbody Series 

By WALTER BENHAM 

1 BEN LIGHTBODY, SPECIAL; Or, Seizing His First Chance 

to Make Good. 

2 BEN LIGHTBODY’S BIGGEST PUZZLE; Or, Running the 

Double Ghost to Earth. 

Goth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, 50c. 


Pony Rider Boys Series 

By FRANK GEE PATCHIN 

These tales may be aptly described as those of a new Cooper. In 
every sense they belong to the best class of books for boys and girls. 

1 THE PONY RIDER BOYS IN THE ROCKIES ; Or, The Secret 

of the Lost Claim. 

2 THE PONY RIDER BOYS IN TEXAS ; Or, The Veiled Riddle 

of the Plains. 

3 THE PONY RIDER BOYS IN MONTANA; Or, The Mystery 

of the Old Custer Trail. 

4 THE PONY RIDER BOYS IN THE OZARKS ; Or, The Secret 

of Ruby Mountain. 

5 THE PONY RIDER BOYS IN THE ALKALI; Or, Finding a 

Key to the Desert Maze. 

6 THE PONY RIDER BOYS IN NEW MEXICO; Or, The End 

of the Silver Trail. 

7 THE PONY RIDER BOYS IN THE GRAND CANYON; Or, 

The Mystery of Bright Angel Gulch. 

Qoth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, 50c. 


The Boys of Steel Series 

By JAMES R. MEARS 

The author has made of these volumes a series of romances with 
scenes laid in the iron and steel world. Each book presents a vivid 
picture of some phase of this great industry. The information given 
is exact and truthful; above all, each story is full of adventure and 
fascination. 

1 THE IRON BOYS IN THE MINES ; Or, Starting at the Bot- 

tom of the Shaft. 

2 THE IRON BOYS AS FOREMEN ; Or, Heading the Diamond 

Drill Shift. 

THE IRON BOYS ON THE ORE BOATS ; Or, Roughing It on 
the Great Lakes. 

THE IRON BOYS IN THE STEEL MILLS; Or, Beginning 
Anew in the Cinder Pits. 

Cloth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, 50c. 


W est Point Series 

By H. IRVING HANCOCK 

The principal characters in these narratives are manly, young 
Americans whose doings will inspire all boy readers. 

1 DICK PRESCOTT’S FIRST YEAR AT WEST POINT; Or, 

Two Chums in the Cadet Gray. 

2 DICK PRESCOTT’S SECOND YEAR AT WEST POINT ; Or, 

Finding the Glory of the Soldier’s Life. 

3 DICK PRESCOTT’S THIRD YEAR AT WEST POINT; Or, 

Standing Firm for Flag and Honor. 

4 DICK PRESCOTT’S FOURTH YEAR AT WEST POINT ; Or, 

Ready to Drop the Gray for Shoulder Straps. 

Cloth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, 50c. 


Annapolis Series 

By H. IRVING HANCOCK 

The Spirit of the new Navy is delightfully and truthfully depicted 
in these volumes. 

1 DAVE DARRIN’S FIRST YEAR AT ANNAPOLIS; Or, Two 

Plebe Midshipmen at the U. S. Naval Academy. 

2 DAVE DARRIN’S SECOND YEAR AT ANNAPOLIS; Or, 

Two Midshipmen as Naval Academy “Youngsters.” 

3 DAVE DARRIN’S THIRD YEAR AT ANNAPOLIS ; Or, Lead- 

ers of the Second Class Midshipmen. 

4 DAVE DARRIN’S FOURTH YEAR AT ANNAPOLIS; Or, 

Headed for Graduation and the Big Cruise. 

Cloth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, 50c. 


The Young Engineers Series 

By H. IRVING HANCOCK 

The heroes of these stories are known to readers of the High 
School Boys Series. In this new series Tom Reade and Harry 
Hazelton prove worthy of all the traditions of Dick & Co. 

1 THE YOUNG ENGINEERS IN COLORADO ; Or, At Railroad 

Building in Earnest. 

2 THE YOUNG ENGINEERS IN ARIZONA ; Or, Laying Tracks 

on the “Man-Killer” Quicksand. 

3 THE YOUNG ENGINEERS IN NEVADA; Or, Seeking For- 

tune on the Turn of a Pick. 

4 THE YOUNG ENGINEERS IN MEXICO; Or, Fighting the 

Mine Swindlers. 

Cloth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, 50c. 


Boys of the Army Series 

By H. IRVING HANCOCK 

These books breathe the life and spirit of the United States Army 
of to-day, and the life, just as it is, is described by a master pen. 

1 UNCLE SAM’S BOYS IN THE RANKS; Or, Two Recruits in 

the United States Army. 

2 UNCLE SAM’S BOYS ON FIELD DUTY; Or, Winning Cor- 

poral’s Chevrons. 

3 UNCLE SAM’S BOYS AS SERGEANTS; Or, Handling Their 

First Real Commands. 

4 UNCLE SAM’S BOYS IN THE PHILIPPINES; Or, Follow- 

ing the Flag Against the Moros. 

{Other volumes to follow rapidly.) 

Cloth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, 50c. 


Battleship Boys Series 

By FRANK GEE PATGHIN 

These stories throb with the life of young Americans on to-day’s 
huge drab Dreadnaughts. 

1 THE BATTLESHIP BOYS AT SEA; Or, Two Apprentices in 

Uncle Sam’s Navy. 

2 THE BATTLESHIP BOYS FIRST STEP UPWARD; Or, 

Winning Their Grades as Petty Officers. 

3 THE BATTLESHIP BOYS IN FOREIGN SERVICE; Or, 

Earning New Ratings in European Seas. 

4 THE BATTLESHIP BOYS IN THE TROPICS; Or, Uphold- 

ing the American Flag in a Honduras Revolution. 

{Other volumes to follow rapidly.) 

Cloth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, 50c. 


The Meadow-Brook Girls Series 

By JANET ALDRIDGE 

Real live stories pulsing with the vibrant atmosphere' of outdoor 
life. 

1 THE MEADOW-BROOK GIRLS UNDER CANVAS; Or, Fun 

and Frolic in the Summer Camp. 

2 THE MEADOW-BROOK GIRLS ACROSS COUNTRY; Or, 

The Young Pathfinders on a Summer Hike. 

3 THE MEADOW-BROOK GIRLS AFLOAT; Or, The Stormy 

Cruise of the Red Rover. 

Qoth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, 50c. 


High School Boys Series 

By H. IRVING HANCOCK 

In this series of bright, crisp books a new note has been struck. 
Boys of every age under sixty will be interested in these fascinat- 
ing volumes. 

1 THE HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMEN; Or, Dick & Co.’s First 

Year Pranks and Sports. 

2 THE HIGH SCHOOL PITCHER; Or, Dick & Co. on the 

Gridley Diamond. 

3 THE HIGH SCHOOL LEFT END; Or, Dick & Co. Grilling on 

the Football Gridiron. 

4 THE HIGH SCHOOL CAPTAIN OF THE TEAM; Or, Dick & 

Co. Leading the Athletic Vanguard. 

Cloth, Illustrated , Price, per Volume, 50c. 


Grammar School Boys Series 

By H. IRVING HANCOCK 

This series of stories, based on the actual doings of grammar 
school boys, comes near to the heart of the average American boy. 

1 THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL BOYS OF GRIDLEY; Or, Dick 

& Co. Start Things Moving. 

2 THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL BOYS SNOWBOUND; Or, Dick 

& Co. at Winter Sports. 

3 THE^ GRAMMAR SCHOOL BOYS IN THE WOODS ; Or, 

Dick & Co. Trail Fun and Knowledge. 

4 THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL BOYS IN SUMMER ATHLETICS; 

Or, Diek & Co. Make Their Fame Seeure. 

Cloth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, 50c. 


H ighSchool Boy s’ V acation Series 

By H. IRVING HANCOCK 

“Give us more Diek Prescott books !” 

This has been the burden of the ery from young readers of the 
country over. Almost numberless letters have been reeeived by the 
publishers, making this eager demand ; for Dick Prescott, Dave Dar- 
rin, Tom Reade, and the other members of Dick & Co. are the most 
popular high school boys in the land. Boys will alternately thrill 
and chuckle when reading these splendid narratives. 

1 THE HIGH SCHOOL BOYS’ CANOE CLUB ; Or, Dick & Co.'s 

Rivals on Lake Pleasant. 

2 THE HIGH SCHOOL BOYS IN SUMMER CAMP; Or, The 

Dick Prescott Six Training for the Gridley Eleven. 

3 THE HIGH SCHOOL BOYS’ FISHING TRIP ; Or, Dick & Co. 

in the Wilderness. 

4 THE HIGH SCHOOL BOYS’ TRAINING HIKE; Or, Dick & 

Co. Making Themselves “Hard as Nails.” 

Goth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, 50c. 


The Circus Boys Series 

By EDGAR B. P. DARLINGTON 

Mr. Darlington’s books breathe forth every phase of an Intensely 
interesting and exciting life. 

1 THE CIRCUS BOYS ON THE FLYING RINGS ; Or, Making 

the Start in the Sawdust Life. 

2 THE CIRCUS BOYS ACROSS THE CONTINENT; Or, Win- 

ning New Laurels on the Tanbark. 

3 THE CIRCUS BOYS IN DIXIE LAND; Or, Winning the 

Plaudits of the Sunny South. 

4 THE CIRCUS BOYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI; Or, Afloat with 

the Big Show on the Big River. 

Goth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, 50c. 


The High School Girls Series 

By JESSIE GRAHAM FLOWER, A. M. 

These! breezy stories of the American High School Girl take the 
reader fairly by storm. 

1 GRACE HARLOWE’S PLEBE YEAR AT HIGH SCHOOL; 

Or, The Merry Doings of the Oakdale Freshman Girls. 

2 GRACE HARLOWE’S SOPHOMORE YEAR AT HIGH 

SCHOOL; Or, The Record of the Girl Chums in Work and 
Athletics. 

3 GRACE HARLOWE’S JUNIOR YEAR AT HIGH SCHOOL; 

Or, Fast Friends in the Sororities. 

4 GRACE HARLOWE’S SENIOR YEAR AT HIGH SCHOOL; 

Or, The Parting of the Ways. 

Goth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, 50c. 


The Automobile Girls Series 

By LAURA DENT CRANE 

No girl’s library — no family book-case can be considered at all 
complete unless it contains these sparkling twentieth-century books. 

1 THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS AT NEWPORT; Or, Watching 

the Summer Parade. 

2 THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS IN THE BERKSHIRES ; Or, 

The Ghost of Lost Man’s Trail. 

3 THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS ALONG THE HUDSON; Or, 

Fighting Fire in Sleepy Hollow. 

4 THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS AT CHICAGO ; Or, Winning Out 

Against Heavy Odds. 

5 THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS AT PALM BEACH ; Or. Proving 

Their Mettle Under Southern Skies. 

Goth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, 50c. 



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